Heroes of Thedas: The Warden
by Darth Synkka
Summary: The darkspawn have returned. The King is dead. Teyrn Loghain is a traitor. The Grey Wardens are gone. Ferelden's last hope rests with a mage and a templar. Can they stop a civil war, unite the races of man, elf and dwarf, and save the world? Part 1 of the "Heroes of Thedas" series. Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age
1. Prologue: Darkness Stirs

**Author's Note: I decided to get my Dragon Age Origins fic out there. This particular story is about a single Warden with cameos from other origins. This fic part 1 of a greater series I will be calling Heroes of Thedas. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of the characters, Bioware does.**

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"And so is the Golden City blackened

With each step you take in my Hall.

Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.

You have brought Sin to Heaven

And doom upon all the world."

\- Canticle of Threnodies 8:13

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The Chantry teaches us that it was the hubris of men which brought the darkspawn into our world.

The mages had sought to usurp Heaven, but instead they destroyed it.

They were cast out, twisted and cursed by their own corruption.

They returned as monsters, the first of the darkspawn.

They became a Blight upon the lands, unstoppable and relentless.

The dwarven kingdoms were the first to fall, and from the Deep Roads the darkspawn drove at us again and again until finally we neared annihilation.

Until the Grey Wardens came.

Men and women from every race, warriors and mages, barbarians and kings...the Grey Wardens sacrificed everything to stem the tide of darkness...and prevailed.

It has been centuries since that victory, and we have kept our vigil. We have watched and waited for the darkspawn to return. But those who once called us heroes…have forgotten.

We are few now, and our warnings have been ignored for too long. It may even be too late, for I, Duncan the Commander of the Grey, have seen with my own eyes what lies on the horizon.

Maker help us all.

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**~ Darth Synkka**


	2. Chapter 1: Harrowed

**Author's Note: The origin story turned out to be a lot longer than I thought it would be so I will be splitting it up into two, maybe three chapters depending on how long it is. This particular chapter is only the Harrowing scene so the chapters aren't so long.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age. This is just a fan-made novelisation written for my own personal amusement.**

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Adrian Amell was no ordinary man. He was a mage – a mortal with a talent for magic, which meant that his whole future was with the Circle of Magi. Maybe. If the templars didn't kill him first. Wasn't he just the luckiest guy in the world?

He wasn't alone, however. He had his best friends; Jowan and Anders, his little sister Solona, the First Enchanter had become like a father to him, and his mentor, Enchanter Neria Surana, was the closest thing he had to a mother, despite her being an elf and he a human. It was an odd little family, but he had one, at least. But the heavy templar presence and his inability to leave the tower were constant reminders that he was a prisoner, not a guest.

Adrian had been woken (rather rudely, he might add) from his sleep in the most ungodly hours of the night by a fully-armoured templar, the visor of his helmet hiding his face. He almost wanted to tell the templar to piss off, and that whatever it was, it could wait until the morning. Almost. He settled for a glare.

"It's time, Mage," he'd said. The young mage had blinked in confusion.

"Time… for what?" Adrian had murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from his blurry blue eyes.

"For your Harrowing, of course. Now, get up!" the templar hissed quietly. Probably to not wake the other apprentice boys. That sobered up the young man immediately. He had gotten dressed in his usual blue-and-purple Apprentice robes – not bothering to comb his shoulder-length curls of dark red hair – all thought of sleep completely forgotten. He was too anxious for that.

The mage and the templar made their way to the very top of the tower to the Harrowing Chamber. The Harrowing…the test that would put an end to his apprenticeship, either through promotion to a full mage, or death. The young mage stopped in his tracks, ice water in his veins. Apprentices never coming back from Harrowings was, unfortunately, quite common. There were all kinds of rumours as to what happens during a Harrowing. Most of them involving gruesome deaths or various types of torture (mages tended to have very active imaginations… it was a bit of an occupational hazard). Unfortunately, the mages who had gone through it weren't allowed to talk about the test. Even his templar friend (yes, he had a templar friend) was tight-lipped about the Harrowing.

_Calm down, Adrian_, he told himself. _It'll be fine. Nothing to worry about. Just an ominously named test that apprentices don't get to know anything about or opt out of. _

Maker's balls.

"What's the hold up?" the templar asked, somewhat coldly.

"Nothing. I just needed a moment to compose myself," Adrian replied matter-of-factly. He didn't want to cause any more trouble than he had too. Maker only knew he'd done enough of _that_ in his teen years.

"Fine," the templar grunted, not bothering to question him further. He supposed the man was probably used to the nerves of mages pre-Harrowing. Adrian took a deep, calming breath, and entered the Harrowing Chamber. May as well get this over with.

The Harrowing Chamber was a big, dark room that was largely empty, with very few decorations aside from the stain-glass windows. In the middle of the chamber was a large bowl with a glowing substance that was all too familiar to the red-haired young man.

"Lyrium?" he murmured to himself. He spotted an older man whose armour bore an image of a flaming sword, the insignia of the templars, with silver hair and a severe face that was grimly lined. Knight-Commander Greagoir… ever a ray of sunshine.

Beside Greagoir was another elderly man with a long beard and a green mage's robe. First Enchanter Irving. Adrian was taken aback by the grim expression on the normally friendly man's face. There were other templars in the room, all in full armour with their visors down – just like the first.

The mage breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the blonde, curly-haired Cullen Rutherford. The young templar gave him a small reassuring smile from across the room, one that Adrian returned. He felt quite a bit better (and braver) with Cullen there and Irving smiled as he gestured for Adrian to come forward. He'd always liked Irving.

""Magic exists to serve man. And never to rule over him"," Greagoir began. Ah, yes. Adrian had had those words practically beat into his skull since he was a little boy. Not that he disagreed with the notion, of course. After all, with great power, comes great responsibility; as Enchanter Neria always liked to say. "Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift – but it's also a curse."

Adrian whole-heartedly agreed with that statement.

"For demons from the dream realm – the Fade – are drawn to you and seek to use you as a gateway into this world," Greagoir warned, cheery as ever. Nothing Adrian did not already know from his eighteen years, give or take, as an Apprentice, but he listened anyway, looking studious and polite. At least, he _hoped_ that that was how he appeared.

"This is why the Harrowing exists," cut in Irving, his gravelly voice uncharacteristically grim. "The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon. Armed with only your will." So, _that's _what the Harrowing was, then? Well, shit. No wonder so many Apprentices didn't come back. Sending people unarmed to battle a _demon_ of all things? What could _possibly_ be wrong with _this_ picture? All the battle-ready templars made perfect sense now. Throw him to the wolves and if he becomes an abomination: slit his throat.

Maker's FUCKING balls.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Adrian sighed, running a nervous hand through his hair and pretending that his knees weren't turning into jelly. "Let's get on with it then."

"Know this Apprentice: if you fail, we templars _will_ perform our duty. You will die."

_Templars killing a near-defenceless mage? Say it ain't so, _Adrian thought wryly but didn't say aloud. He was no fool (most of the time). He knew when to be a smart-ass and when to hold his tongue.

Now just so happened to be the time for keeping his bloody mouth shut.

Adrian nodded, his arms crossed and his face a mask of neutrality. The absolute picture of stoicism (he hoped). Greagoir seemed pleased with that.

"This is lyrium: the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade," Greagoir continued. Adrian had to roll his eyes at that one.

Thank you, Ser Obvious.

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child," said the First Enchanter. "Every mage must go through this trial by fire." Irving put a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "As we succeeded, so shall you." Could Irving tell how scared he was?

"Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real." Adrian frowned. He had no idea what that was supposed to mean but he had a feeling that he was going to find out very soon.

"The apprentice must go through this test _alone_, First Enchanter," interrupted the Knight Commander, a warning look in his steely eye.

"You are ready." The Knight Commander's hand beckoned the young man forward. It seemed that even the old templar believed that he was capable of passing this test. Maybe he really did have nothing to worry about (not that he should be getting cocky, of course, better to be safe than sorry). Adrian took a deep breath.

"Here goes nothing," he murmured as he stepped away from the safety of the First Enchanter toward the unknown world of the Fade.

Adrian looked into the bowl, transfixed by the glowing blue substance inside. Lyrium is actually quite pretty when you think about it. When it's not driving you barking mad, that is.

Adrian took the bowl of lyrium, reluctantly, into his hands. This was going to hurt, and he knew it.

"Bottoms up," he said as he downed the lyrium. His body was suddenly racked with pain as he bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out. The lyrium seemed to enter his blood, his bones, his very soul. The world around him faded away and was replaced by an impossibly bright light.

Adrian suddenly found himself on the ground, his body feeling unnaturally light. He looked around at his surroundings, trying to gather his bearings. A futile effort, he knew. Everything in this world looked translucent, even the very ground on which he walked. He seemed to be in a wasteland, some of the rock floating, with a narrow path up ahead, and far off in the distance, always teasing, always out of reach, was the infamous Black City. Everywhere he looked, the Black City loomed ominously, terrifying and mysterious, over the rest of the Fade.

But what was it really?

What was the Black City – this one constant thing in the shifty, ever-changing realm of dreams? The Chantry certainly seemed to know. The story he'd grown up with was that the city used to be golden and the heavenly seat of the Maker before it was corrupted by human sin (the human sin of mages, more specifically). Adrian supposed it was as good an explanation as any for the time being. It wasn't like anyone in their right mind would venture so far into the Fade as to actually _go_ to the Black City. Not after what (allegedly) happened last time.

Adrian tore his blue-eyed gaze away from the beckoning city, focusing solely on his test. That's what's important right now – not pondering questions that could never be answered. He followed the only path there seemed be, encountering very little in terms of trouble. Just a couple of wisps. Nothing a little lightning couldn't handle.

"Someone else thrown to the wolves. As fresh and unprepared as ever," said a solemn man's voice, coloured by a bitterness that he was all too familiar with. Adrian stopped. Where had that come from? All he saw when he looked around was rock, rock and – oh look! – more rock.

"It isn't right that they do this, the templars. Not to you, me, anyone!" There was that voice again. And it was coming from…below? Adrian looked down, spotting a mouse almost directly under his boot, staring up at him with solemn green eyes. It was a little mouse, so small that Adrian would have trodden on it and been on his merry way without even noticing. Was it the mouse that had spoken before? Adrian's first instinct was to say; _no, of course not – mice can't talk_, but this was the Fade. Quite literally anything could happen here. Besides, he sincerely doubted that it was really a mouse. It was probably a demon in the form of a mouse. The small creature sighed wearily.

"It's always the same. But it's not your fault. You're in the same boat I was, aren't you?" The mouse, with a bright flash of light, suddenly took on the form of a young blonde man with big green eyes and an archaic apprentice robe.

"Allow me to welcome you into the Fade. You can call me… well, Mouse," he introduced.

"Not your real name, I take it?" Adrian stated skeptically.

"No," Mouse answered sadly. "I don't remember anything from… before." Before? Before what? "The templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figure you failed, and they don't want something getting out."

That… certainly sounded like something the templars would do. After all, how were they supposed to know if he passed or failed? Something has to happen, right? Or maybe it doesn't, and they really do kill you if you take too long. Just in case. For the _good_ of _all_…

"That's what happened to me, I think," Mouse continued angrily. "I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same." How could this "Mouse" know that he'd been killed by templars if he didn't remember anything? Perhaps his memory was less gone as it was… fragmented? Still, Adrian aired for the side of caution.

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do about it?" he interrogated, trying to hide his anxiety. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. He felt like he'd been blindfolded, spun around a few times and told to make his way up to the Anderfels. While still blindfolded.

"There's something here, contained, just for an apprentice like you," Mouse explained bitterly. And by "something", Mouse probably meant a demon. "You have to face the creature, a demon, and resist it, if you can. _That's_ your way out. Or your opponent's, if the templars wouldn't kill you. A test for you, a tease for the creatures of the Fade."

Adrian sincerely doubted that it was as simple as "kill the big, bad, scary monster". If it was, apprentices wouldn't fail so often and the templars would actually tell people what was involved. No, there had to be more to this.

"Anything can die," said Adrian dubiously, fingering his chin in thought. "I doubt it's as simple as that." Mouse nodded in grim approval.

"You'd be a fool to just attack anything you see," the dead apprentice agreed. "What you face is powerful, cunning." Mouse looked behind him. "There are others here, other spirits. They will tell you more, maybe help. If you can believe anything you see." He wouldn't. That was always the smart thing to do in the Fade. But beggars couldn't be choosers and Adrian needed information. "I'll follow, if that's all right. My chance was long ago, but you… you may have a way out." Adrian nodded. Mouse was as good an ally as any for the time being.

With a flash of light, Mouse returned to his mouse form, and climbed up his leg to get to his shoulder. The curly-haired mage protested indignantly; what did Mouse think he was, a horse? But the spirit – apprentice, whatever – completely ignored him. Adrian's eyes rolled in irritation, but he didn't bother shaking Mouse off.

The mage walked through the path with his new companion perched on his shoulder like some sort of bird, finding a small clearing lit up by multiple braziers. According to Mouse, this was where the test will take place. While the demon could be anywhere, this was where it will manifest. Adrian decided that it was better to move on for the time being.

Up a small hill, there were more wisps to dispatch. Mouse was no help, but wisps were small potatoes compared to what Adrian was bracing himself for. To his left, the apprentice mage spotted what looked like a man in heavy plate, but he was glowing and surrounded by enough weapons to fill an armoury.

"Hey, Mouse," Adrian whispered. "Who's that up there?"

"Hmm… if I had to guess, I'd say that that's Valor," the shape-shifting apprentice replied. Valor… interesting. Just about every mage knew that the Fade was filled with spirits of all kinds. Some were malicious spirits that embodied all the deadly sins of mankind: rage, hunger, desire, sloth and pride. Or just "demons" for short. Others were the very personification of all of man's greatest virtues: compassion, justice, faith, wisdom, valor, etc. Perhaps this spirit of valor would be willing to offer him a hand. Or maybe not. Spirits cared very little for the affairs of mortals, unlike demons. Still, it was worth a shot. He wasn't about to enter battle without a weapon.

"He's got a lot of weapons for one guy, doesn't he?" Adrian commented.

"Making weapons is pretty much how Valor spends all his time. He's a spirit, not a demon, so he hardly cares when apprentices pass through here for their Harrowings," Mouse explained. Adrian fingered his chin in thought. Hmm…there were quite a few staves there. Very _nice_ staves.

"You know what would make this whole fighting-off-a-demon-that-wants-to-eat-me-for-breakfast thing a lot easier?" Adrian mused aloud.

"Hmm?"

"A weapon." The two were silent for a moment as Mouse's green eyes widened as he seemed to realize what the mortal was thinking. Mouse's face fell into skepticism.

"And how do you expect to convince Valor to actually give you one of his weapons? They are very precious to him, you know," Mouse asked him. Adrian shrugged nonchalantly.

"By asking him very nicely?" He quipped with a smirk. Mouse gave him a deadpan look.

"Your glibness does you no credit," he said dryly. Adrian groaned and ran a hand through his red hair.

"Look, he's a spirit of valor, yeah? He'll most likely want me to duel him for one," the mage explained.

"Fair enough," Mouse said as they approached Valor. The spirit was forging a sword (or at least that's what it _looked_ like he was doing) as he noticed the arrival of the mortal man and the shifting spirit.

"Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see," the spirit observed, tone very matter-of-fact. "Your mages have devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill, than to be sent unarmed against a demon." The spirit… had a little bit of a point. Adrian raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You know why I'm here?" he questioned in surprise.

"You are not the first sent here such testing," Valor explained. "Nor shall you be the last, I suspect."

Adrian suspected that Valor was absolutely right about that. Perhaps not every apprentice passed through this particular part of the Fade, but he doubted that the Circle would ever stop conducting Harrowings. Not unless something huge happened to change things and Adrian doubted that that day would ever come.

"That you remain," continued Valor, snapping Adrian from his deep thoughts. "means that you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come." Hmm…maybe this spirit could tell him more about the Harrowing. Wouldn't it be ironic for a Fade spirit to be more honest than the templars?

"What do you know about the Harrowing?" he asked.

"Is that what your test is called?" the spirit replied with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. "I know little of your mortal ways. I _do_ know that a demon has been called and told that a meal awaits. It will not – cannot – leave until one of you is dead."

Wait, what? What was that supposed to mean?

"I'm sorry, I think I misheard you. I could have sworn that you just said; "cannot leave until one of us is dead"," said Adrian, alarm building up inside him.

"You did not mishear," stated Valor. "That is exactly what I said." Adrian suddenly felt as if he had had ice water thrown in his face, his ears ringing as only Mouse's voice seemed to register in his mind.

"You understand now, don't you? What the Harrowing really is," Mouse whispered in his ear. Adrian felt an odd mixture of horror and fury as the realization slammed into him. He hadn't just been summoned to the Fade, he realized. The templars (and the mages – he couldn't forget that) had put a _demon_ inside of him! Those bastards! Valor was right. This was bloody cowardly.

"Why would they do this?" he murmured, feeling utterly violated.

"Because they're sadistic bastards, that's why!" Mouse hissed. Anders would say the same. His younger self would have as well (maybe he still would). "Think about it, why else would they leave you at the mercy of a demon completely unprepared? If you can resist possession at your weakest, then you can resist it any time." Adrian's hands clenched into fists, his fingernails digging so far into his skin that they drew blood.

The furious mage purposefully walked up to one of the weapon racks, putting his hand on one of the staves. He still needed that weapon, now more than ever.

"Would one of these weapons affect the demon?" he asked, his voice cold.

_Not me_, he told himself. He would not allow this demon to take him.

"Without a doubt," Valor replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "In this realm, everything that exists is the expression of a thought." Adrian already knew that part. He didn't quite understand it all but nothing in the Fade was physical. It changed seemingly at random and only the spirits, and a very rare kind of mage that the Tevinter Imperium called "_Somniari_" or "Dreamer" could control it.

"Do you believe these blades be steel?" It certainly looked like steel to the mage. "The staves be wood?" The spirit put his hand on one of the staves. "Do you believe they draw blood?"

"That sword certainly _looks_ very sharp," he whispered to Mouse who was getting a little too comfortable on his shoulder.

"And yet it's not really a sword," Mouse replied cryptically. "It's an idea given shape and form."

So, like magic then? Wasn't a spell, any spell, also just the product of an idea being "willed into being," as Valor put it?

"It's all very complicated. You should stick to killing your demon for the time being." Mouse must have seen that his face was one big question mark. Adrian pouted, blowing an annoying red curl out of his face.

_But I like complicated things…_

"A weapon is a single need for battle, and my will makes that need reality," Valor continued. The spirit's eyes narrowed from behind his visor. "Do you truly desire one of my weapons?"

"Yes, I do," Adrian answered, keeping up the guise of innocence and curiosity. He had the spirit exactly where he wanted him. If cunning was what was needed to win, then that was what he would use.

"Then I will give one to you… if you agree to duel me, first. Valor shall test your mettle as it _should_ be tested." Adrian's lips tilted up into a slight smirk. He knew it.

"Very well," Adrian agreed. "What are the rules of this duel?"

"We battle until I am convinced you are strong enough to defeat your demon. If you do not convince me, I will slay you," Valor explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "Are these rules understood?"

"Yes, I understand," affirmed Adrian.

"Our duel begins now. Fight with Valor!" The spirit raised his sword as Adrian got into an awkward fighting stance.

_Am I doing this right? _the human wondered. He didn't have much time to think. Valor nearly sliced him in two on the first swing of his sword. Adrian managed to dodge at the last moment, though Mouse had let out a terrified squeak and jumped off his shoulder, scurrying away to hide.

Adrian conjured some ice to hold Valor in place, buying him a few seconds. He used the time to move out of Valor's reach and pelt him with several arcane bolts**, **a simple spell that used up very little mana (he would need to save his mana for the demon). The spell did little damage but as long as Adrian could keep Valor at a distance, he had the advantage. Valor broke himself free from the frozen spell and charged at the mage, getting too close, too quickly for Adrian's liking.

Valor was within reach and Adrian found himself sliced in the chest by the spirit's sword, the mage falling right into one of the weapon racks. Pain exploded in his chest; his robes stained with blood. It seemed that Valor had only grazed him.

_None of this is real, _Adrian told himself. _This is the Fade. I'm not really bleeding._

Heart racing, the redhead shocked the spirit with some lightning, stunning the spirit and causing him to cry out in pain. Adrian scrambled to his feet, grabbed one of the staves from the rack, and gave the spirit a good bash in the head with all the physical strength he could muster.

With a grunt, Valor fell to the ground as Adrian channelled flame through his staff, rather than his hand. That should put the spirit down.

"Enough!" bellowed the spirit. Adrian froze and stopped the spell. Was it over? Valor got on one knee and planted his sword into the ground, using it as a crutch to get to back to his feet. The mage was still in his fighting stance; staff pointed at the spirit, breathing heavy, heart hammering in his chest and body trembling from battle.

"Your strength is sufficient to the task," the spirit declared, somehow completely unaffected by the battle. "The staff is yours." Adrian relaxed, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

"Thank you," the man murmured.

"May you find glory in all your achievements, mortal," Valor said with a pleased nod. At least, Adrian hoped he was pleased. Never knew with spirits. The mage looked around, spotting Mouse cowering behind a rack of shields. He walked toward the shape-shifter and crouched, putting his hand on the ground.

"It's all right, Mouse," said Adrian very gently. He pitied the poor little bastard. Such a small thing yet he was surrounded by such large creatures that could very easily step on him. "The battle's over." Mouse eyed the mage's hand, hesitating for only a moment before scurrying up to his shoulder.

"Why do I have a feeling that working with you is going to be very interesting?" Mouse asked.

"Well, I am a very interesting person," Adrian replied with a smirk.

"That you are," Mouse agreed. Adrian wasn't sure if he liked Mouse's tone. The mage shook his head and moved onward, coming up to a pair of old white columns where he was attacked by a pack of glowing wolves.

"Spirit wolves!" squeaked Mouse. Perhaps a bit more troublesome than the wisps but a simple bonk on the head with his new staff sent most of them running. He walked passed a bunch of dead plants and giant mushrooms (odd), everything looking exactly the bloody same. Adrian was quite grateful for the simple, linear directions of the path.

"Be cautious," Mouse said suddenly in his ear. "There is… another spirit, here. Not the one hunting you, but still…" Adrian came to a dead end, a large spirit that looked like a bear of some sort, sleeping in the cul-de-sac. The aura around this spirit was… different from that of Valor. Darker. Adrian frowned, his shoulders tense. A demon.

"A demon…" Adrian growled aloud.

"Yes. Not the one you must kill, but I'd still be careful if I were you," Mouse advised. The mage gave him a deadpan look.

"I think that goes without saying…" Mouse squeaked and hopped off Adrian's shoulder, shifting to his human form. The two cautiously approached the demon. The demon didn't even bother to lift his head. A Sloth demon then?

"Hmm…so you are the mortal being hunted? And the small one…" The demon yawned. "Is he to be a snack for me?" The demon spoke very slowly, his words slurred. Adrian kept his guard up. One should never underestimate a Sloth demon, no matter how lazy and uncaring they seemed. Sloth demons were quite powerful. Mouse shifted nervously at his side.

"I don't like this. He's not going to help us. We should go…" Mouse turned to try and leave but Adrian grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"We're not going anywhere." The demon sniffed loudly, sounding bored.

"No matter," he said lethargically. "The demon will get you eventually, and perhaps there will even be scraps left." The demon seemed interested, as he bothered to stand up.

"What do you know about this demon?" The mage asked. The demon merely laughed.

"I know that you will fail your test and he will eat you." Why did everyone but him know about all of this?! "Now, begone!" The demon groaned in annoyance. "Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal. I tire of you already." That's Sloth demons for you. He laid back down again. Did he fall asleep? Adrian's hands clenched into tight fists, his body trembling with his growing frustration. He didn't have time for this! That bloody demon could takeover his body and mind at any moment.

"Alright, listen, I need help defeating the demon. Can you help or not?" Sloth opened one of his beady black eyes, seeming to be completely unfazed by the mortal man.

"You have a very nice staff," the demon bear yawned. "Why would you need me? Go, use your weapon since you have earned it. Be valorous." Adrian growled in frustration and threw his arms in the air. This was really starting to piss him off. Mouse put a hand on his shoulder.

"He looks powerful," the dead apprentice whispered. "It might be possible that he could…teach you to be like him." Adrian looked at Mouse skeptically. Was that really possible? Mouse could do it but then again, how many years of practice has Mouse had?

"Like me?" Even Sloth mustered up the energy to look surprised. "You mean teach the mortal to take this form? Why? Most mortals are too attached to their forms to learn the change." Adrian's heart fell. "You, on the other hand, little one," he continued. "might be a better student. You let go of the human form years ago." Of course! Mouse could already change his shape! He just needed to learn the Bear Form. Mouse gave him a look that just screamed "No."

"I… don't think I'd make a very good bear," he hesitated. "How would I hide?"

"You can't keep hiding forever. There comes a point where you have to take a stand!" Adrian told him.

"I have faced more in this place than you can imagine!" Mouse said defensively. Adrian glared daggers at Mouse, his expression making it clear that that was no excuse. Mouse glared back at the redheaded mage, who was not backing down. Mouse eventually looked away in shame. "You are right… hiding doesn't help. I'm sorry, it's the Fade. It changes you." Adrian waved his hand dismissively. He couldn't really blame Mouse for wanting to hide.

Mouse let out an over-dramatic sigh. "I'll try," he said. "I'll try to be a bear. If you'll teach me."

"That's nice," the demon yawned in a monotone voice. "But teaching is _so_ exhausting. Away with you now." Adrian and Mouse's jaws dropped to the ground.

"What?!"

"I told you he wasn't going to help us," Mouse said with a disappointed sigh.

"You can't just suggest something and then take it back!" Adrian yelled in exasperation. Was that demon _trying_ to piss him off?

"Can't I?" replied the demon with a warning tone. Adrian took a deep, calming breath. Just a hunch, but maybe picking a fight with a Sloth demon wasn't the brightest of his ideas.

"Look, Mouse wants to learn. So, why don't you teach him?" he asked, keeping his tone level, hoping that he sounded reasonable.

"You wish to learn my form, little one?" inquired the demon. Mouse nodded lamely. "Then I have a challenge for your friend: Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach you. Fail and I will devour you both. The decision is yours." Adrian couldn't help but burst into hysterical laughter. Riddles? Was he serious? It just seemed so… so _silly_. But then again, the Fade looked very, very dull. Even more dull than the Circle Tower. Honestly, he couldn't blame the demon for wanting a little entertainment. He'd be bored too.

"So… so… you'll teach Mouse… how to be a bear… and all I have to do is _entertain_ you a bit?" Adrian asked between giggles. "You know… you know what? I'll do it… I'm all for it."

"Truly?" Sloth sounded genuinely surprised. "This gets more and more promising. My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

Hmm… child's play.

"That's easy. A map," Adrian answered confidently.

Sloth snorted, disgruntled. "Correct. Let's move on. The second riddle: I'm rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?" This one was a little harder. His temper? No, that didn't sound right.

Rarely touched, but often held…His breath? No, that didn't make any sense. And you can't "use your breath" no matter how witty you are. Wait a minute. That's it!

"The answer's "Tongue"."

"Yes, your witty tongue," said Sloth. If the demon could pout, Adrian was sure that he would be. "Fair enough. One more try, shall we?" Adrian nodded; his arms folded across his chest.

"Often will I spin a tale; never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas, you won't remember me. What am I?"

Hmm… his first thought was of the spiders he often kept as pets (not the large, scary ones the size of dogs; the normal ones) but that didn't work with the context of the riddle.

A liar? A storyteller? An annoying riddler, perhaps? No, the last line of the riddle gave it all away.

You won't remember me…

Of course, that part didn't apply to Adrian. While normal people would forget, he always remembered _his_ dreams quite vividly. Part of being a mage, he supposed.

"A dream," he murmured aloud. Sloth harrumphed again.

"You are correct. Rather apropos here in the Fade, no?" So, that last riddle was Sloth thinking that he was being funny? "But you've won my challenge and proven yourself an amusing distraction. So, I shall teach you my form. Now, listen carefully…"

It took a few tries before Mouse got even close to Sloth's Bear Form, and even then… the form Mouse took was that of a proper bear, just like the pictures in the books he'd read. Not that he'd ever seen a real bear. The only animals he'd ever really seen were the tower mouser and the occasional mouse. Adrian blinked. Had he been locked in the tower for that long?

"Like this?" cut in Mouse's uncertain voice. "Am I a bear? It feels… heavy."

"Hmm. Close enough," said Sloth. "Go, then, and defeat your demon… or whatever you intend to do. I grow weary of your mortal prattling."

The duo turned to leave when Adrian thought of something.

"One more thing, Sloth."

"Hmm?"

"What kind of demon am I facing?" Adrian asked curiously. There was a yawn.

"I believe it is a rage demon," Sloth replied slowly. Adrian turned, taken aback.

"Wait, so you're telling me that a sloth demon is waiting on the scraps from a lesser demon? Pardon my Orlesian, but I call bullshit," said Adrian. Sloth growled angrily, voice dripping with contempt.

"If I was truly after the same meal as _Rage_, I would have killed that inferior demon and taken you for myself."

"Then why don't you?" Sloth growled in frustration again.

"You will find out… eventually." He got up, turn around and laid back down, his back to them. It was pretty clear that he wouldn't be speaking to them anymore. Adrian sighed, and turned back, with Mouse (Bear?) in toe. He was as ready as he could be (he still felt horribly unprepared but getting his hands on a weapon and having a battle-ready Mouse at his side was going to have to be enough) and he couldn't put off facing the demon any longer.

A Rage demon, eh?

Adrian felt a sense of relief. While immune to flame, rage demons were terribly weak to frost spells. At least, that's what he had read, anyway. That and they were at the lowest on the totem pole… the least powerful of all demons. On their way back to that clearing where Mouse said the demon would manifest, they were, once again, attacked by spirit wolves. How very original.

The spirit wolf running at him vanished after being hit with a few arcane bolts, and Mouse had easily overpowered both his opponents in his Bear form. Adrian was glad that Mouse had agreed to this at all. It made him feel quite a bit better to have a powerful ally at his side.

They returned to the flaming clearing, a rage demon suddenly manifesting there. So the sloth demon was right, then?

"And there is a spirit of rage," observed Mouse, now in his human form.

"Well, here goes nothing," muttered Adrian uncertainly. The duo entered the clearing, the rage demon looking very pleased with the mage's presence. Well, as pleased as a big blob of lava _could_ look.

"And so it comes to me at last!" exclaimed the demon theatrically, throwing its arms in the air, its voice quite satisfied. "Soon I shall see the land of the living with _your_ eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul." Adrian rolled his eyes. Talk about over-the-top.

"You can certainly try, Ugly," he retorted, plastering on a cocky smirk. He hoped that he looked and sounded more confident than he felt.

"Oh, I shall." The demon turned to Mouse, and he could have sworn that the demon was grinning from ear to ear. "So this creature is your offering, Mouse? Another plaything, as per our arrangement." Arrangement?! Of course… of _bloody_ course! Andraste's arse, he was sick and tired of being tossed to the wolves.

Mouse put his hands to his face. "I'm not offering you anything! I don't have to help you anymore!" he exclaimed confidently.

"Aww," mocked the demon, a pout in his voice. "And after all those wonderful meals we have shared? Now suddenly the mouse has changed the rules?"

"I'm not a mouse now!" Mouse retorted. "And soon I won't have to hide! I don't need to bargain with you." The rage demon was silent for a few moments. Adrian wasn't sure whether he should be worried or not.

"We shall see," said the demon coldly. Clearly his little feelings had been hurt.

The rage demon attacked, summoning many wisps by his side. Adrian didn't bother with them. His first course of action was encasing the demon in ice, attempting to freeze, or at least weaken him. The heat from the rage demon melted the ice of the spell, but the melt-water cooled the thing down, extinguishing much of the demon's fire. Mouse took this moment of distraction to bring up his massive paw and slashing the demon with his claws, followed by a bash from Adrian's staff. Stunned, the demon put a hand to its head. Mouse got on his hind legs and, with a powerful roar, brought his massive, heavy paws on the demon, knocking it to the ground and holding the demon in place. Adrian shot some lightning at the demon with all the power he could muster and, with a terrible scream, melted into a puddle of hot goo which disappeared, leaving behind only a burn mark on the ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian saw the familiar flash of light as Mouse reverted to his human form, a look of astonishment on his face. The wisps were also gone, which Adrian was quite thankful for. He already felt drained from the lack of mana as it was.

"You did it," he exclaimed. "You actually did it! When you came, I hoped that maybe you might be able to… but I never really thought any of you were worthy."

"That… was a little too easy," Adrian murmured thoughtfully. Shouldn't demons be a lot tougher than this? Oh, and he hadn't forgotten that Mouse had lead quite a few apprentices to their deaths. Not even for a moment.

"That is because you are a true mage, one of the few," he said joyfully. There was something… odd about Mouse's voice. Adrian had a bad feeling about this. "The others, they never had a chance. The templars set them up to fail, like they tired with you."

And they failed.

Mouse looked down in what Adrian assumed was shame. "I regret my part in it, but you have shown me that there is hope," Mouse told him. "You can be so much more than you know."

Adrian sighed. He was still upset but at least Mouse had chosen to stay and fight with him instead of feeding him to a demon (like the templars did).

"So, what now?" the mage asked curtly.

"You defeated a _demon_," Mouse emphasized. "You completed your test. With time, you will be a master enchanter with no equal." And? What did that have to do with getting out of here? "And maybe there's hope in that for someone as small, and… forgotten as me. If you want to help." There was that strange tone in Mouse's voice again. Just what was he getting at? Help how?

"Help you? What do you mean?" Adrian asked aloud, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"There may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in," Mouse explained in that strange tone that Adrian couldn't place. The young apprentice stepped back in shock.

"I'm sorry, "let you in"?" he demanded.

"_Back_!" cried Mouse. "Help me _back!_ The templars killed me, didn't they? Just like all who fail in here. They'll kill you too!" Backpedalling, are we? Why that deceitful little rat. "Can't you feel the sword at your neck? They believe all magic evil, the Fade evil. Once you are here, you become what they fear."

_Shut up_, he thought. _Shut up so I can think, dammit!_

Everything about this test made sense now. The way Mouse talked, so much like Anders and a younger, angrier version of himself, how he kept bringing up his hatred for templars and knew just what to say to rile the mage up. He hated that all of this was bringing back old feelings that he'd made peace with long ago. And the sloth demon…why would a more powerful demon like that wait for the scraps of a rage demon? Laziness? No… keeping a sloth demon in check would require something far more powerful. Like a pride demon.

Adrian growled and pointed his staff at the "apprentice."

"You know what I think? I think that other demon wasn't my test. I think _you_ are. Were you ever really an apprentice?" Adrian said breathlessly with an accusing glare. Mouse looked taken aback. It was probably false.

"What? Yes! Of course! I mean, I think I was. Isn't that enough? It should be enough! For you," Mouse said defensively. Adrian's hands tightened around his staff, silent and cold. No, he would not fall for this. Mouse had him going for a while, but he understood now.

Mouse – the demon – looked down and smiled, laughing in amusement. "You are a smart one. Simple killing is a warrior's job," said the demon, his voice changing to something deep and demonic. "The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust… pride." With another flash of light, the demon changed to his true form – a massive pride demon. Oh, Maker. "Keep your wits about you, Mage. For true tests…never end."

Before Adrian could contemplate how totally, royally, bleeding-from-the-arsehole fucked he was, the world began to fade away again.

* * *

**Ending Note: so that's the first chapter. I haven't decided if I'll name the chapters Harrowed Pt 1, Pt 2 and Pt 3 or if I'll name them after the quests. Constructive criticism is always welcome but I will ask you to please not be rude about it. Thank you very much and enjoy.**

**P.S. I got a few pointers regarding the fight scenes and I just wanted to thank the person who did that. I am not very good at writing fight scenes so it's nice to able to improve them. Let me know if the edits I made fixed the issues even a little bit. Thank you**

**~ Darth Synkka**


	3. Chapter 2: A Mage of the Circle

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age.**

* * *

When the mage awoke, he found that he was back on his bed in the male apprentice dormitory. His ears picked up the idle chatter of various apprentice boys going about their routines. He opened his eyes, surprised by the late-morning light streaming in from the windows. So, was that all a dream? No… it couldn't be. He was fully dressed in his apprentice robes instead of his nightclothes.

"Are you all right? Say something, please…" Adrian jumped, spotting a familiar man dressed in the blue-and-purple apprentice robes. His dark hair was long and messy, his eyes a bluish-grey and a light stubble on his face. Oh yes, he recognized that ugly mug.

"Jowan? Where am I?" he asked, somewhat shaken.

"You're in the dormitory. Take a deep breath… you're safe," Jowan answered gently. Adrian took a breath and rested his head against his knees. He smiled. It was over and he was still alive. Thank Andraste.

"I passed," he murmured in relief. He passed his Harrowing and now could begin his new life as a real Circle mage.

"Yeah, I guess you did. Anyway, they carried you in this morning," Jowan explained. "I didn't even realize you'd been gone all night." Neither did Adrian. Did the Harrowing really take all night? He… supposed that time passed differently in the Fade than it did in the real world. Jowan sat beside his friend on the bed.

"I've heard about apprentices who never come back from Harrowings," he said. "Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?" Oh no. He should have known that Jowan would pester him about it.

"Jowan, you know I –"

"I know I'm not supposed to know but we're friends!" Jowan whined, interrupting him. "Just a little hint and I'll stop asking, I promise!" Adrian sighed as he was backed into a corner. He supposed one little hint wouldn't hurt anyone. Adrian stretched his neck to get a look around the dormitory. There wasn't a lot of people in here and as long as he kept his voice down, no one would ever have to know.

"Fine, fine. I had to enter the Fade," Adrian told his friend vaguely, his voice little more than a whisper. Jowan did only ask for a little hint, after all. Hopefully, he won't get in trouble for this. Jowan looked at him skeptically.

"That's it?" Dammit. Of course, Jowan wouldn't let him get away that easily. What could he say to satisfy Jowan's curiosity without breaking too many of the rules? But did he really _want _to follow the rules? After having had a _demon _put inside of him? Screw that.

"And I had to fight demons," he added in a neutral tone. Jowan nodded slowly.

"That makes sense. They want to see if you can resist a demon and stop yourself from becoming an abomination." Jowan leaned forward, a frown on his brow and his fingers interlaced as though in prayer. "And now you get to move to the nice mages' quarters upstairs. I'm stuck here and I don't know when they'll call me for _my _Harrowing." Adrian shrugged casually.

"Any day now, probably," he said dismissively. Why was Jowan worried about _that_? The young man stood up and paced, his arms folded across his chest.

"I've been here longer than you have…" Jowan shot back. "Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me." Now he was just being paranoid. Why wouldn't they want to test him? Maybe Jowan had a tendency of not thinking before acting, but he wasn't _that _stupid. Adrian got to his feet and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It'll be fine, Jowan," he said gently. "Everyone goes through a Harrowing." Jowan looked at him forlornly.

"The tranquil never go through a Harrowing," he replied mournfully. Adrian's hand dropped to his side. Oh. He had completely forgotten about the tranquil. Creepy bastards, they were. Was that what Jowan was worried about? "You know how it works; you do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility… or you die." He knew that only too well. Mages had such great options in the Circle, didn't they? Do the Harrowing where you _could _die, be killed on the spot or spend the rest of your life as an empty, emotionless shell.

"They're not going to kill you, Jowan," said Adrian reassuringly. There was nothing to kill him over anyway. Jowan had never expressed any sort of interest in forbidden magics nor was there any sign that he was _practicing _said forbidden magic. If he was, there would be physical marks – wounds and scars. Though, Jowan had been disappearing a lot over the last few months…

"They might not," Jowan replied somewhat cryptically. "But the Rite of Tranquility is just as bad…maybe worse." Adrian couldn't bring himself to argue. Tranquility really was a fate worse than death. He'd seen them all over the tower doing all the little, mundane things without a care in the world (literally). Working in the Stockroom, the laboratory, the kitchens, cleaning in the corridors, etc. Adrian shuddered. He did _not _likethe Tranquil. They freaked him out too much.

"I mean, just look at Owain, who runs the stockroom." Owain… one of the apprentices that asked to be made tranquil. The man was surprisingly open about the Rite and what being tranquil was actually like. Adrian supposed it was impossible for a tranquil to actually be bothered by it. Jowan shook his head. "He's so cold," the dark-haired apprentice caught himself. "No, not even cold. There's just… just…"

"Nothing in him," Adrian finished for him feeling rather depressed. That was the best way he could think of to put it. Jowan snapped his fingers.

"Yes, exactly! Like he's dead but still walking. His voice, his eyes are lifeless…" Adrian shook his head, biting his lip.

"What did they do to him?" Adrian mused, speaking more to himself than to Jowan.

"He's been made tranquil," Jowan replied matter-of-factly. "I don't know how they do it exactly, but the result is always the same. You're cut off from the Fade. And your magic abilities. And your dreams… and your emotions."

"And people actually _choose _that," Adrian growled with a slow shake of his head.

"I know. It's awful, isn't it? But it's not always a choice," said Jowan. "The Circle has no problem forcing Tranquility on those they feel are weak or who would be too... dangerous as mages."

"Jowan…"

"I – I shouldn't waste your time with this," Jowan interrupted. "I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."

"Oh? What for?" Adrian asked curiously.

"To talk about the Harrowing, I suspect. You'd better not keep him waiting. We can speak again later." Jowan informed him.

"Um, alright then," said Adrian. Jowan left before his friend could get any more of a word in. The apprentice mage still looked upset, but Adrian supposed he could talk to him again later. The mage sighed. So many people to see and so little time to do it.

As Adrian left the apprentice quarters, he could hear a couple of apprentices gossiping about his Harrowing. Apparently, Cullen was just singing his praises about how "quick" and "clean" his Harrowing was.

He heard another pair of apprentices gossip amongst themselves about how someone was suspected of dabbling in blood magic.

Who would do something so _stupid _within the tower walls? There was always, always someone watching. It was like the walls themselves had eyes. There was no way that anyone could get away with practicing blood magic here.

He shook the thought from his mind as he entered the tower classrooms on his way upstairs. It was the only way to get there. He didn't mind watching the Enchanters teach. He backed off as one apprentices accidentally set himself on fire while practicing primal magic. Thankfully, his mentor had acted quickly enough to avoid any serious injuries.

He stopped in front of a class of children, probably new to the Circle. The Enchanter had the small group of young children stand before her instead of sitting at their desks. She was teaching them about Andraste and the Chantry. Adrian had to restrain himself from laughing as the teacher asked them if they remembered what the Chantry said about magic, and one of the boys responded, very confidently, with; "Only boys can do magic!" Neither the very female teacher nor the one girl of the group were very impressed. The mind of a child was truly a wondrous thing.

Perhaps he'd like to be a teacher one day.

Adrian shook his head and made a left turn to the bookshelf-lined corridor to the stairs to the second floor. He climbed the stairs to find the stockroom staring at him right in the face. He hated passing through here. He marched passed the stockroom, avoiding making any eye contact with the Tranquil. Thankfully, they were too busy to notice that anyone was walking by.

He went to the second-floor library, deciding that he should stop to say "hello" to Enchanter Neria. The library was where she could usually be found. When the elven woman wasn't teaching, she was reading up on the old magic and culture of the ancient elves – her ancestors.

The brown-haired, green-eyed elf sat at a table, her hair pinned up in a way that made her look like a librarian. Adrian approached the woman, who saw him coming, and embraced him.

"Congratulations on your Harrowing, my boy," she said. "My faith in you was well-placed."

"Thank you, Enchanter," he replied with a grin. "I couldn't have done it without you." Enchanter Neria released him.

"Oh, I'm sure you could have," Neria said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You always were a talented boy." Adrian's face fell and he turned his gaze away.

"I wasn't always worthy of that talent," he murmured guiltily.

"Adrian, you are hardly the first young mage to be angry about being stuck in the tower," Neria told him in an almost scolding tone. Adrian looked away, frowning in deep thought.

He thought of Anders, who had attempted to escape multiple times. He remembered Anders telling him that mages needed to stick together, defend each other, because no one else ever would. Adrian didn't want to believe that, but it was far too true for him not to. Neria was right. He was not the first to be bitter about his fate and he doubted that he would be the last.

"Anyway, I just wanted to check on you," continued Enchanter Neria. "I know from experience that the Harrowing can be quite an ordeal."

"That's one way of putting it," Adrian replied shrewdly, his smirk looking more like a pained grimace.

"Anyhow, that's behind you now. So, how does it feel to be a proper mage?" asked the Enchanter, seeing her former pupil's discomfort. Adrian shrugged.

"Honestly, I don't feel any different." Neria gave him a small smile.

"Maybe not. But last night, you proved that are strong enough to handle your powers… and that you've grown into a fine young man." Adrian flushed at the compliment, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"But I've kept you long enough. The First Enchanter wants to speak you and you shouldn't keep him waiting," said Neria. "And while you're at it, do let Solona know that you're alright. She's been sick with worry." With that, Adrian waved his mentor goodbye, not wanting to keep his sister or the First Enchanter waiting for him.

Adrian walked to the chapel, figuring that that was probably where his sister was as that was where she tended to spend her free time. Solona said that it brought her a sense of peace regardless of the... less than lovely parts of being in the Circle. He shook his head. He had no idea how Solona managed to be so pious and optimistic. He was almost envious of his little sister.

He spotted Solona sitting in one of the pews closest to the door. She wasn't exactly difficult to find. His sister's long, straight hair was the same deep auburn as his own. Not too many people here had red hair, after all.

He took a seat behind her, and covered her eyes with his hands.

"Guess who?" he said in a sing-song. Solona giggled at her brother's antics.

"Think you're funny, do you, Brother?" Adrian chuckled and uncovered his sister's eyes.

"Yes – yes, I do," he said as he climbed over the back of the seat and sat beside Solona. Adrian earned himself quite a few glares from the priestesses, which he pointedly ignored. Solona fidgeted awkwardly in her seat, her brown eyes not meeting her brother's blue ones.

"What is it, Solona?" Adrian asked worriedly.

"I just… I was so worried about you," she began. "I woke up this morning only to hear that you'd been taken for your Harrowing." Solona shuddered, her face white. "I didn't even know. You could have disappeared just like the others and I would never have even known!" Adrian had had enough. He put his hands on his sister's shoulders and turned her so she would face him.

"Sister, look at me." She did. "Do you really think I would ever allow a little test to take me down?" Solona bit her lip.

"No," she replied, feeling a little silly for even entertaining the notion. "I'm just… I'm afraid of losing you. And… and… I'm afraid what will happen when it's my turn." Ah, so that's what this was about.

"I mean, I'm nowhere near as strong and talented as you are," Solona continued with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "What if…"

"Solona, that's enough," he said, his voice quiet but authoritative. "You are plenty strong and I think you'll make a great mage one day. And so long as you remember that the test is made to deceive you, you'll get through it just fine." With that, Adrian embraced his little sister, which she gladly returned. He meant it when he'd said that his sister was strong. Adrian would even argue that Solona was stronger than him. Perhaps not in terms of raw magical talent, but as a person. If there was anything that the Harrowing had shown him, it was that he had never actually let go of his old anger and bitterness like he had lead himself to believe. Adrian had merely gotten very good at burying it deep within his heart.

But Solona...

Solona had never become bitter about their situation. She always looked on the bright side of things even when there didn't seem to be any. To be honest, Solona might be the only thing keeping him sane in this Maker-forsaken place. Perhaps it was because she hadn't seen the same abuses that he had seen. After all, he had done everything he could to protect her from it.

Whatever the reason, Solona hadn't become bitter and angry like her brother had. And he was very glad about that. Adrian pulled away and invited her to walk to the office with him. She beamed brightly, a genuine smile on her face, as they left the chapel, neither noticing the initiate that was watching them with gentle smile on her face and soft light in her eyes.

While on their way to Irving's office, the Amell siblings spotted Cullen and stopped to say "hello". The templar had congratulated Adrian for passing his Harrowing with flying colours, relieved that he did not have to slay him. Adrian wasn't certain how he felt about the fact that Cullen was the one holding the sword to his neck.

Cullen saw Solona and immediately melted into a mess of incoherent stammers, the man flushing furiously from head to toe in the most comical way possible. Solona's own cheeks had turned a little pink as she burst into nervous little giggles.

Adrian would have found the whole thing rather funny if it wasn't for the fact that Cullen's crush was on. his. _sister_. The elder Amell sibling sighed. He supposed that he would never have even given Cullen a chance if Solona hadn't pestered him into it. He really couldn't stay for very long as he had left Irving waiting for far too long as it was, so he insisted on bidding the templar goodbye, much to Solona's disappointment. Adrian rolled his eyes. It wasn't like she never got to see him or anything. He knew full well that she snuck around at night to see him (oh, Maker, she really _was_ his sister). Cullen tried his bloody hardest to hide his disappointment as he stammered out his goodbyes. As they walked away, Adrian made an "I'm watching you" gesture with his hand, making Cullen snort and shake his head. He knew that the red-haired mage meant it all in jest.

The duo stood outside the First Enchanter's office, Knight-Commander Greagoir's loud, booming voice echoing through the corridor, startling the mage siblings, Solona physically jumping at the sound.

"…many have already gone to Ostagar!" the Knight-Commander bellowed. "Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort –"

"Your own?" came the First Enchanter's calm yet mocking voice. "Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir. Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually _use _their Maker-given powers?"

Adrian gingerly entered the office, Solona deciding to stay out of sight but still within ear-shot, not getting any further than the threshold. There was a third man in the room who was definitely not from here. Olive skin, slightly hawkish nose, black hair in a ponytail, fuzzy beard, full set of armour (but not of templar issue), and a sword and dagger across his back. Who was this man? The stranger looked at him, and Adrian looked away, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"How dare you suggest –"

"Gentleman, please," interrupted the stranger. Adrian was astounded by how the stranger managed to sound both polite and authoritative at the same time. "Irving, someone is here to see you." The two bickering men turned to Adrian, seeming to only just now notice that he was there. The young man flushed, feeling very much on the spot.

"Uh, hello," he said oh-so-intelligently.

_Nice going, Adrian_, he chastised himself. _Make an arse out of yourself, why don't you? _

"Ah, if it isn't our new brother in the Circle," said Irving warmly. He beckoned Adrian to come forward. "Come, child." Adrian tentatively stepped forward. The stranger also stepped forward.

"Is this…" asked the stranger, his voice trailing off. Irving turned to him.

"Yes, this is he," confirmed Irving. Huh?

"Well, Irving, I see you're busy. Well discuss this later," said the Knight-Commander coolly. Adrian knew that Greagoir had finally noticed Solona when he spluttered in surprise and indignation, and loudly shooed the eavesdropping girl away.

"Of course. Well, then… where was I?" said Irving. "Oh, yes. Adrian, this is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens. Duncan, this is Adrian – the student I told you about," Irving introduced. Had they been talking about him? He really hoped that it was nothing bad.

Wait a minute – that man was a _Grey Warden_?! As in one of the guys responsible for stopping the Blight and nearly wiping the darkspawn from the face of the Earth? And he just embarrassed himself in front of him. Adrian really wanted to crawl into a hole now.

"I… don't understand…" Adrian murmured. He was honoured to meet a Warden, but what was he doing at the tower?

"You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect?" Irving began. Against the darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds? Yes, everyone's heard about that. From what he had read, there were always things to fear in the Wilds: Chasind barbarians, witches, cannibals, the general wildlife… but never darkspawn. That had always been a dwarven problem until now. Adrian nodded in response. "Duncan is recruiting mages to join the King's army at Ostagar."

"Can I go?" The words had come out of his mouth before he had a chance to bite his tongue. But did he really want to stop himself? This was his chance. His chance to do something _real_. He was a Harrowed mage now; he could actually leave the tower if Irving and Greagoir both agreed to it.

"With the darkspawn invading," Duncan answered. "we need all the help we can get, especially from the Circle."

"What do you mean?" Adrian asked. Sure, darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds was very unusual but their numbers weren't that large. Were they? Everything he'd read about the Blights said that the Wardens had practically annihilated the darkspawn four-hundred years ago.

"The power you mages wield is an asset to any army. Your spells are very effective against largest groups of mindless darkspawn," Duncan told him with a twinkle in his eye. His expression changed, eyes serious and mouth grim. "I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight." Adrian's eyes widened. A Blight? Was he serious? If it was true, then… then he couldn't just stand idly by and do nothing. Stuck up here in this tiny, tiny tower while the real world is swallowed up by darkness.

"Duncan, you worry the poor lad with talk of Blights and darkspawn," chastised the First Enchanter. "This is a happy day for him."

"We live in troubled times, my friend," Duncan shot back in his calm, polite demeanour.

"We should seize moments of levity, _especially _in troubled times," Irving argued. The old mage turned to his redheaded charge.

"The Harrowing is behind you," he said. Thank the Maker for that. "Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi."

_My leash, you mean… _said a dark little thought in his mind. Adrian simply nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. Duncan's expression was a big question mark as he looked between the two mages.

"I'm sorry – what is this "phylactery"?" Duncan asked the First Enchanter. Irving sighed wearily.

"Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials," the elderly man explained.

"So they can be hunted if they turn apostate," Duncan finished matter-of-factly.

First Enchanter Irving folded his arms across his chest. "We have few choices. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly," he explained. Too bad nothing was ever going to change people's minds about magic. Mages could be as responsible as they wanted but all it took was one crazy person to ruin it for the rest of them. Irving turned to Adrian with a warm smile and pride in his voice. He picked up a few objects from his desk: yellow-and-blue robes, a staff and a ring.

"You have done this. I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia." Irving handed him the items. Adrian put on the ring and felt a sense of pride as he held his mage's staff in his hand. "Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

"Um, thanks," Adrian breathed, unsure what to say. Irving gave him a serious look and told him not to talk about the Harrowing with those who hadn't gone through it before dismissing him. The day was his to do with what he wished.

Duncan took that as his own cue to leave.

"Would you be so kind as to escort Duncan to his room, child?" Irving asked him politely. Turn down the chance to be alone with a Grey Warden? He'd have to be crazy. Irving told him which room was Duncan's and they were off.

Adrian nodded silently as Duncan thanked him for walking with him. He'd always dreamed of actually meeting a Grey Warden, but now that he had, he didn't know what to say. Where should he even begin?

"Irving speaks very highly of you," Duncan said, breaking the silence.

"I should hope so," Adrian chuckled. "I've known him my whole life. He's like a father to me."

"I imagine he's been a surrogate father to many in the tower," Duncan agreed. Adrian imagined that too. But his relationship with Irving was a little more personal. Most children were between six and twelve when they were brought to the tower and, therefore, remembered what their lives were like before. Adrian was denied such luxuries. He'd been sent to the Circle at a younger age than most and had no real memory of his family. Solona was lucky; she got to remember. She didn't remember much, but it was more than he ever got, at least.

"Speaking of Irving, what was that argument about?" Duncan raised an eyebrow.

"The one with Greagoir?" Adrian nodded. "It is…not my place to comment." Adrian sighed in disappointment.

"Please?" he begged. "What's the harm?" Duncan chuckled to himself.

"Very well. As Knight-Commander, Greagoir serves the Chantry and the relationship between the Chantry and mages has always been strained." That was certainly one way of putting it. "You've realized by now that the Chantry merely _tolerates _magic? They watch only because they feel they must," Duncan explained in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Is that what they were arguing about?" Adrian asked. He had a feeling that there was more to it than that.

"Not exactly. The Chantry believes that a mage should fear his power. It was the pride of mages, they say, that nearly doomed us. But in the King's army, the mages can release the full might of their power. In fact, I'm counting on it. But what if the mages decide that they no longer want to be governed by the Chantry?" Duncan explained. Ah, Adrian saw where the old Warden was going with this. The mage chuckled mirthlessly.

"He doesn't need to worry about that. He's still got the Rite of Annulment hanging over our heads," Adrian said darkly.

"The power in this place could destroy all of Ferelden if you mages truly wished," Duncan retorted calmly. "I understand Greagoir's fears, but the Blight is a far greater threat than demons, blood mages and even abominations. He _must _see that. I cannot do with such few mages," ranted Duncan.

"And how many mages did Greagoir already send?" Adrian asked. He remembered Greagoir mentioning that most of the senior mages had left, Wynne and Uldred included. He'd never personally met Wynne, but he'd heard that she was a kindly old woman if a bit nosy. Her grandmotherly nature made her the kind of woman that people either loved or hated. And Uldred… well, Adrian didn't really think much of the man. He preferred study and research over teaching, so he never mentored anyone. Although, he seemed to know a surprising amount about blood magic.

Duncan scoffed in annoyance. "Only seven."

"That's… not a lot," Adrian replied, though he fully understood why this decision was made. There weren't that many senior mages to begin with and he imagined the Circle did not trust lower ranked mages in the army.

"No, it isn't. If I had things my way, there would be a mage or two in every contingent," Duncan explained. "Mages will make all the difference in this battle. The darkspawn have their own magic, and our resources must exceed theirs." Adrian was quiet for several moments, his brow furrowed in thought as they entered Duncan's quarters. There was something he wanted to ask but he wasn't sure how. What if Duncan laughed at him? He was just out of his apprenticeship, after all. Adrian sighed, deciding to just spit it out.

"Do you think I could join the army?" he blurted.

"I don't know," Duncan said with a cheeky grin. "Do you?" Adrian looked Duncan in the eye, shoulders straight.

"Yes. I think I could help," the younger man replied with conviction. He wanted to help. To use his magic to do something real. What was the point of having all this power, if he couldn't actually _do _anything with it? He wanted to help people – to protect them. Adrian wasn't an especially pious man, but the Maker must have given him these powers for a reason, right? Maybe this was it.

"Then perhaps I can speak to Irving about this matter." Adrian's jaw dropped to the bottom of Lake Calenhad. He _would_? Really? Why?

"You will? Why?" he asked aloud, completely flabbergast.

"Why not? You are willing and able. And Irving tells me you are talented and disciplined. We could use someone like you in our fight against the darkspawn," Duncan explained matter-of-factly, standing with his hands behind his back. Irving really said those things? Even after all the trouble he caused as a troubled, angsty teenager?

"Wow. Thanks," Adrian breathed. "But I should get going. Do you think we can speak again later?"

"Of course. I will be here for a few more days, I think," Duncan replied with a smile. "Thank you for walking with me, by the way." Adrian waved his hand dismissively.

"No need to thank me. I learned quite a lot from you."

"You are too kind," Duncan said, holding out his hand. "It was an honour to meet you, Adrian Amell." Adrian shook his hand, and flushed at the Warden's use of his surname. Most mages let go of their surnames (their old lives and families no longer mattered) upon arriving to the Circle, but Adrian couldn't bring himself to do it. When he found out what his full given name was – Adrian Gaius Fausten Kieran Amell – he clung to it, desperately holding onto his only connection, aside from his sister of course, to a past he no longer remembered.

"The honour's mine," he said. With that, Adrian waved the Grey Warden goodbye and made his way to the Mages' quarters where they directed him to his room. Wow…his own room. His room with his own bed, with his own desk, with a private place to bathe. Oh, he was going to like this.

Adrian changed into his new robes, unsure if he liked the yellow and blue colour scheme but there was nothing to be done about it. He folded his old robes and put them neatly on his new bed. The Tranquil will figure what to do with them.

Hmm… what to do now? He supposed he should probably find Jowan, and continue their strange conversation from earlier. What ever was wrong with his friend, he wanted to help.

As it turned out, Jowan found him first. Adrian spotted him right outside the Mages' quarters, waiting for him.

"Hello Jowan. Is everything al –" Adrian was suddenly interrupted.

"I need to talk to you," Jowan stated, his voice little more than a whisper. Adrian raised a confused eyebrow.

"Um… okay? About what?" he asked also whispering.

"Do you remember what we talked about this morning?" Jowan questioned.

"Of course. And why are we whispering?" Jowan shushed him, his finger over his lips.

"I just want to make sure we aren't overheard. Can we go somewhere else?" he asked warily. "I don't feel safe talking here."

"…Jowan, you're starting to worry me."

"I've been troubled… I'll explain. Come with me, please." Adrian followed Jowan to his "somewhere else," which turned out to be in the corner of the chapel. The templar's favourite haunt. With a Chantry initiate standing right beside them. They were probably safer in the corridor.

"Umm…are you sure…?" Adrian asked uncertainly.

"Yes, it should be safe," stated the initiate. "If a templar comes, we'll change the subject."

"And who are you?" he asked.

"A few months ago, I told you that I… met a girl," Jowan explained. Yes, Adrian remembered that. He also remembered thinking that Jowan was bullshitting him. "This is Lily." Adrian hummed and put a hand on her shoulder, looking solemn.

"My condolences, Lily." Jowan glared daggers at his best friend while Lily giggled to herself.

"Ha, ha. Very funny…" he deadpanned.

"What is all this about?" Adrian asked them, puzzled.

"Remember when I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my Harrowing?" Jowan responded. Adrian gave him an affirming nod. "I know why. They're… going to make me Tranquil." Adrian's blood ran cold at those words and the despair in his friend's voice. Jowan… _tranquil_? Why? He didn't do anything wrong, did he? "They'll take everything I am from me – my dreams, hopes, fears… my love for Lily. All gone…"

"Jowan –"

"They'll extinguish my humanity," Jowan wailed. "I'll just be a husk – breathing and existing but not truly living."

"How do you about this?" Adrian asked them. It was Lily who answered.

"I saw the documents on Greagoir's table," she explained. "It authorized the Rite on Jowan. And Irving signed it." No, no, no… Irving wouldn't do that. At least, not without a really good reason. What reason did Irving have for making Jowan tranquil?

"Why would they do this to you?" Adrian whispered in horror.

"There's… a rumour about me," Jowan answered quietly. "People think I'm a blood mage." Ahh… now that actually explained a lot. The Chantry abhorred blood magic and the Circle couldn't afford to ignore a rumour if there was even the slightest chance that it was true. "They think making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone."

"And are those rumours true?" Adrian didn't really care if Jowan was a blood mage, but he needed to know everything before deciding what to do about this. Jowan looked his friend hard in the eye, almost seeming offended that Adrian would even ask such a thing.

"Of course not! I'd never use blood magic." Adrian believed him.

"Okay, so, what are you going to do?"

"I need to escape!" Jowan exclaimed pointedly. "I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it, they can't track me down. Lily and I can't do this on our own. Please, help us." Jowan clasped his hands together in a begging gesture, putting on his best Kicked-Puppy look. Maker damn it all.

"Give us your word that you will help," Lily cut in. "and we will tell you what we intend."

"Alright, you have my word, Lily," Adrian agreed. If they were really going to make Jowan tranquil for wanting to shag something other than his right hand, then he couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Lily breathed a sigh of relief and gave her new friend a warm smile.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "We will never forget this."

"So, what's the plan?"

"I can get us into the repository," Lily said seriously. "But there is a problem." Of course, there's a catch. "There are two locks on the phylactery chamber door. The First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander each hold one key." Keys? That's it? How in the Maker's name did they get anything done around here if the best security they could manage for the most important room in the tower was a bloody _key_? "But it is just a door," Lily continued. "There is power enough in this place to destroy all of Ferelden. What is a door to mages?" So Duncan had said before. Adrian supposed that it was true. But as much as Adrian liked Lily's enthusiasm, he doubted it was as easy as that. It could be a magical door, for all they knew.

"It can't be _that _easy," Adrian mused. "What if it's a magical door? What if it's warded or something?" Lily's face fell.

"What if it _is _that easy?" Jowan argued. "Look, we don't need the keys. I once saw a Rod of Fire melt through a lock. That should be enough to get us in." He supposed that could work. Adrian still had a bad feeling about this, though. "You could get one from the stockroom. But Owain doesn't release such things to apprentices." Ah, Adrian could see where this was going.

"And you need me to go get the Rod of Fire, I take it?" Adrian asked with a sly smile. Jowan and Lily both nodded in unison. Adrian chuckled softly.

"All right, I'll be back. You guys should probably stay here. A mage, an apprentice and an initiate all hanging out at the stockroom might look a little funny," Adrian suggested.

"I was thinking the same thing," Lily replied with a nod. "I will be here singing the Chant of Light and Jowan will pretend to listen." Jowan took her hand and gave her a warm, loving look.

"I hardly need to pretend," he purred. Lily giggled shyly, her cheeks pink. Eww…Adrian rolled his eyes.

"You two are so nauseating…"

"You're just jealous," Jowan shot back with a smug smirk.

"Why would I be jealous of you?"

"Because _I _have a girlfriend," Jowan proclaimed proudly.

"Shut up…" Adrian grumbled irritably. Dammit, he walked right into that one.

"Boys, boys, that's enough," Lily cut in. "We have work to do."

"Yes, yes, I'm going," said Adrian dismissively as he left the chapel. This couldn't be real. His best friend – his _first _friend here in the Circle – was essentially going to die over a stupid rumour. No, it wasn't a physical death, but that would be far kinder than Tranquility. Everything that made Jowan who he was, for better or worse, would be gone just like that. He couldn't let this happen. Maybe if he talked to the First Enchanter, explained everything to him, then maybe he would understand and cancel the Rite. It was a long-shot, but he had to try.

Adrian wasted no time getting to the First Enchanter's office. Irving wouldn't stand for this, surely. Not if he knew the truth.

The mage stood outside the office, taking a deep breath. He spotted the old man sorting through various books on his desk. Maker's breath! Were those books on _blood magic_? Why would the First Enchanter have books like _that_lying around on his desk?

Irving spotted him, smiling warmly at his prodigious pupil.

"Ah, Adrian. I trust you saw Duncan to his quarters?" Irving asked. Adrian jerked in surprise.

"Of course," he replied.

"I'm glad you met him," said the First Enchanter approvingly. "He's a most honourable man." Adrian smiled to himself. He, too, was glad to have met the Grey Warden. The young man shook his head. As much as he'd love to go on about how exciting it was to meet a real Warden, there were more pressing matters.

"First Enchanter, I need to – I need to talk to you about something," said Adrian hesitantly. The First Enchanter raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I… I've noticed that Jowan's been… troubled lately," Adrian began uncertainly. "And he – he told me that he's afraid that he hasn't been called for his Harrowing because... because you plan on making him tranquil." Irving chuckled darkly.

"And how does he know this?" The First Enchanter asked suspiciously. "I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him." Adrian stared at the First Enchanter wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"You _know_?!"

"Of course. I did not become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut," Irving said seriously. So he knew the truth about Jowan and Lily, and yet he was still going to allow for the Rite to be performed? That wasn't like the First Enchanter at all. Adrian took a few deep breaths, thinking hard about what he was going to say. How could he change Irving's mind?

"First Enchanter, please, I beg you. Don't do this to Jowan."

"Greagoir says he has proof – and eyewitness testimony – that Jowan has been practicing blood magic. I cannot say more," Irving explained, his arms folded across his chest. Wait, what? Jowan was no blood mage. He had looked him in the eye and explicitly told him that he wasn't practicing it. And Adrian trusted his best friend… his best friend who was like a brother to him. "If it were up to me, it would be different, but… I'm sorry, child. This Rite of Tranquility will happen." Adrian stepped back, feeling like he'd been struck. Betrayal took a vice-like hold of his heart as it pounded harder and harder in his chest. First Enchanter Irving, the man he looked up to like a father, would allow for this just because Greagoir _said __so_?! Because Greagoir _claimed _to have proof and witnesses? Did this "proof" happen to be the rumours of other apprentices? Greagoir could be making it up for all he knew. The _good _Knight-Commander was hardly fond of the mages he was in charge of, after all.

"First Enchanter, I…I…" He looked away from Irving, unable to look at him. He had to get out of there. "I have to go." Adrian turned to leave as Irving called out to him, his voice weary and chastising. The young man stopped, unable to look at the First Enchanter at the moment.

"This is wrong, and you know it," Adrian told him frigidly, cold fury filling his veins. Without another word, the young mage left the office, fiercely determined to get Jowan out here no matter what.

* * *

**~ Darth Synkka**


	4. Chapter 3: Bound in Blood and Magic

**Author's Note: here is chapter 3 and the end of the origin (finally lol). I will be trying something a little new, these sort... in-between chapters that are told in the POV of another character, just to see you guys like them. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

* * *

Adrian's heart pounded in his chest. Not with fear or even anger. It was with excitement. He was actually quite elated to actually be _doing something_ for a change instead of sitting around, day after day, resigned to his fate of endless, boring routine.

First order of business was getting his arse to the stockroom for that Rod of Fire. Adrian spotted a man with a shaven head, a sunburst tattoo on his forehead and a Chantry robe. Owain.

"Welcome to the stockroom of magical items," said Owain in a dead, monotone voice. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I – I need a Rod of Fire," he explained anxiously, trying not to look Owain in his cold, dead eyes. This was going to be Jowan. If he didn't do anything... then this was what Jowan would turn into. He tried to imagine it. He tried to imagine his rather melodramatic friend as an emotionless golem with no humanity to speak of. The thought made him shudder.

"Rods of Fire serve many purposes," said Owain, snapping Adrian from his thoughts. "Why do you wish to acquire this particular item?"

"I… uhh… need it for my research into… burning things." Adrian internally cringed at how utterly stupid that sounded. Owain turned away and picked up a piece of paper.

"Here is the form – "Request for Rod of Fire." Have it signed and dated by a Senior Enchanter. I will release a rod to you once I have the signed form." Adrian gave Owain a tight nod.

"I will be back shortly."

"Thank you."

Adrian held the piece of paper in his hands as he wandered the tower, wondering who to ask about this. He didn't really know any of the senior enchanters. He was a somewhat reclusive man who liked his very small circle of friends. He hadn't really bothered to step out of his comfort zone and was now kicking himself for it.

He stopped in front of the laboratory, noticing an elven woman dressed into the scarlet robes of the Senior Enchanter who was pacing nervously and snapping at the members of her staff. Leorah, if he remembered correctly. Now that Adrian thought about it, she was giving the massive doors to the storeroom caverns a lot of nervous glances.

Hmm…

He wondered if perhaps he could make a deal with her.

He entered the laboratory, stopping just short of the woman's desk. For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to approach her. He was suddenly nervous and didn't know what to say to her.

Adrian took a deep breath, not willing to let mere shyness stop him from helping Jowan and Lily get free.

He approached the desk, Leorah look up at him with brown, irritated eyes.

"Yes?" She demanded. "What is it?"

"I… uh, I just needed something out of the storeroom caverns. I should only be a minute," he explained, hoping that his fib was convincing.

"No!" she yelped; her voice a couple of octaves higher than before. "I… I mean, I… I can't let anyone in there just now." Adrian raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

Why not? he wondered. The storeroom caverns were available to everyone, even apprentices so long as their mentor was supervising them.

"Why is that? I thought the storeroom caverns were for everyone," he inquired aloud. The elven woman shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"Well, yes," she began. "But I am in the midst of… stock-taking. Checking inventory. And I… can't let anyone in there in case they… mess things up. Yes." Adrian supposed that that was a valid excuse. Except for one small thing…

"Then why are you out here and not in there?" Leorah squeaked in surprise. It seemed that she had been caught.

"Because I… am taking a break," she explained unconvincingly. "I hate the musty smell of the caves, and I..." At Adrian's skeptical look, Leorah's shoulders slumped and she sighed audibly.

"Look, there is an infestation of monsters in the caves. I don't know how they got in there but it's probably my fault. I was promoted to senior enchanter less than a fortnight ago and I don't want anyone to find out. They'll think I'm incompetent!" she hissed, frustration clear in her voice. Adrian hummed in understanding, unfolding the form for the Rod of Fire that was still in his hands.

"How about this, Senior Enchanter?" he proposed, catching Leorah's interest. "If I get rid of those monsters, or whatever, in the caves, and keep quiet about it; you sign this form for me – no questions asked. Deal?" Leorah took the form from his hands, murmuring "Rod of Fire?" under her breath. It was her turn to look skeptical, but she agreed to the proposal, seeing no other options. The blonde elf put the form on her desk, grabbed a key and unlocked the doors to the storeroom caverns.

Adrian entered the caves, the doors closing behind him, to find nothing so far. But the cave wasn't empty by a long shot. There were all kinds of magical items from staves, to potions, to ingredients for potions and even lyrium. He wandered through the caverns that had been carved into the rock-face that the Circle tower leaned against.

The mage walked cautiously through the caves, his senses on high alert. He could hear something scuttling about in the dimly lit caverns, his staff held out defensively in front of him. Along the walls, he spotted massive spiderwebs with rats, mice and even the mouser meant to keep the rats out of the storeroom trapped inside.

Adrian shuddered. He had a feeling that he knew exactly what kind of monsters were in these caves.

It was then that he saw it; the massive spider with hairy legs and beady black eyes as large as his hand.

Now, Adrian normally liked spiders – when they weren't big enough to eat him. Then, not so much.

He didn't even hesitate to set the monstrous creature alight with magically-conjured flames, it's high-pitched scream lasting only a few moments before the spider fell completely silent. More scuttling could be heard, and it was getting closer.

Shit. The commotion must have alerted the other spiders of his presence.

Two of the monstrous things attacked him at once. Adrian acted quickly, casting a spell to encase the spiders in ice. He then moved around the frozen spiders and cautiously walked deeper into the caverns. The rest of the spiders gave him very little trouble and once the last one was dead, he circled the caverns once again to burn all the webs and cocoons. He was, of course, very careful about keeping the magical flames small and tightly controlled to keep any of the contents of the storeroom from getting damaged.

He returned to the the laboratory to find Leorah pacing around the room, anxiously awaiting his return. The elven woman's eyes brightened with hope as she spotted him.

"You're back!" she exclaimed. "Are the monsters gone?"

"They are," he replied. "I even cleaned out the webs for you."

"Oh, wonderful!" Leorah sighed, relief clear on her face. "You're a life-saver." The woman walked over to her desk, picked up a piece of paper and handed it to him. It was the signed form for the Rod of Fire.

"Ah, thank you, senior enchanter," he said to her.

"It was a pleasure," replied Leorah with a small smile. "You'll go far in the Circle, I bet."

He would much rather leave it, but he took it for the compliment it was and took his leave, returning to Owain for that Rod. The man, the way he always did, like he had completely forgotten that Adrian had been here not even an hour ago.

The red-haired mage shivered. Why did Owain always have to do that? It was like the tranquil mage was no longer a person but an automaton. Maybe that was what happened to all the Tranquil.

"I have the signed form for the Rod of Fire," he explained stoically. Owain took the form and looked it over with a critical eye.

"Everything looks to be in order," said Owain in what could have been approval, if the man was even capable of such a thing. He then disappeared into the stockroom and returned with a white rod in hand.

"Here is the Rod of Fire that you requested."

"Thank you," Adrian nodded. He left the stockroom, hoping that no one would notice him with the Rod.

On his way back to the chapel, he ran, almost literally, into Solona. Normally, he would have been glad to see her, but these were not normal circumstances. The last thing he wanted was for her to get involved in all of this. What if they got caught and she got in trouble? Now that Adrian was a harrowed mage, it was against Chantry law to make him tranquil, but the same could not be said of Solona, who was still an apprentice.

"Brother!" she exclaimed happily. "How did your talk with Irving go?"

"Oh, that? Fine. I'm sorry, Solona, but I'm in the middle of something. Can we talk later?" Adrian tried to walk away but Solona took hold of his arm.

"Adrian, wait!" The elder Amell turned to face his sister whose soulful brown eyes searched his for answers.

"You look frazzled," she said gently. "Is everything all right?" Adrian plastered a false smile on his face.

"Of course! Everything's fine, baby sister," he fibbed quite obviously, a hand behind his neck. Solona raised a delicate eyebrow, her expression skeptical.

"Look, I'll tell you everything later," he promised. He then ran off before his sister even had a chance to protest.

Adrian entered the chapel, spotting Lily and Jowan, and gave them a thumbs-up to let them know that everything had gone off without a hitch. Jowan stood up from the pew and followed his best friend out of the chapel. It was a while before they saw Lily follow suit, but, soon, it was all three of them again.

"So, how did it go?" asked Lily anxiously. Adrian waved the Rod of Fire.

"I have what we need," he answered simply.

"Then why are we still standing here?" Jowan demanded. "We're wasting enough time as it is!"

The trio made haste to the phylactery chamber, which was all the way in the tower's basement. It would be difficult to get there without being noticed. Adrian couldn't help but be nervous. What if the chamber was guarded? It would have to be if it was only kept locked by a couple of keys. Lily assured them that the room was not guarded, however, which Adrian found strange. He had a feeling that they would not be dealing with an ordinary door, but they would have to cross that bridge when they got there.

The group had to hide from a couple of groups of templars patrolling the halls (all the bookshelves and closets scattered along the walls were suddenly quite useful) and got a few funny looks from some of the apprentices, but other than that, they ran into no trouble. They made sure that no one was watching before entering the basement. The easy part was now over. The hard part, frankly, would be getting out of the tower once Jowan's phylactery was destroyed. There were always templars guarding the doors, after all. But if Anders was able to pull it off, not once, but six times already, then so could they.

Hmm… Adrian knew a couple of entropy spells. Maybe he could cast a spell that would lull the guards to sleep?

They entered a dimly-lit hall that Adrian had only seen once in his life. The time he had spent a week in solitary confinement. The man shuddered. That was the last thing he wanted to think about.

The trio approached a very large wooden door with a shimmery look to it.

"This is called the "Victim's Door"," Lily explained. "It is made up of two hundred and seventy-seven planks. One for each original templar."

"So, how do we open it?" Adrian asked.

"This is no ordinary door," Lily began somewhat cryptically in her soft voice. "First, we need to prime the door with the password; then, it needs to feel the touch of mana from a mage that has completed the Harrowing."

"You have this password, I trust?" he said. Lily nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, I got it from a Templar who recently accompanied mage in the phylactery chamber." The initiate then turned and spoke the password.

_Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade._

There was a strange chiming sound that made Adrian jump.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"The password has primed the door. Now, it needs to feel the touch of mana," the woman answered. Did that mean he had to hit it with a spell? Did it matter how much mana he used?

"Any spell will do," Lily continued anxiously. "But hurry! We don't have much time!" Adrian decided on casting an arcane bolt. He doubted that the door required a high-mana spell. The door responded positively to the spell, swinging quietly open for the three intruders.

"We're in!" Lily whooped, a large grin on her face. The group moved on to the next door with the very ordinary-looking lock.

"Is this the door to the chamber?" Adrian inquired seriously.

"It is," Lily confirmed.

"Time to use the Rod," said Jowan. "It should melt right through those old locks." The redhead nodded and attempted to do just that, only to find that nothing was happening. The Rod wasn't working.

"What's wrong?" Jowan demanded urgently. "Why isn't it working?" Adrian shook his head mutely. He had no idea.

Lily approached the door and inspected it closely while Jowan attempted to whip up some flames with magic and melt the locks with that. Both men frowned in concern as nothing happened. Even relatively easy spells were failing them? Something was wrong. Both mages tried and failed to cast even the simplest of spells, their frustration building at each failed attempt.

"Lily… something's wrong," said Jowan through grit teeth. "I… can't cast spells here. Nothing works!"

"I recognize these wards," Lily murmured. "They negate any magic cast within this area. Of course! Why would they use simple keys for such a door? Because magical keys don't work! How do you keep mages away from something? Make their powers completely useless! That's it, then. We're finished!" The woman wailed in despair. Adrian looked down despondently.

No. There had to be another way in. He looked around at some of the statues in the corridor, armed with swords and pikes. Hmm… perhaps he could break the lock? Suddenly, Adrian's spirits perked up. There was another door to their right.

"That door over there," he said, pointing his finger in the direction of the second door. "It leads to another part of the repository, doesn't it?" It also lead to the cells where they locked up mages who were in solitary confinement. But he tried not to think about that.

Both Jowan and Lily looked where he was pointing, with the former moving to stand beside him, a contemplative frown on his face.

"I think it does." Adrian looked at the Rod of Fire in his hand.

"The Rod should melt _those_ locks, shouldn't it?"

"Let's hope that the templars didn't ward that door as well," Lily chimed in.

Adrian approached the second door, not liking the look of those suits of armour. He had the strangest feeling that they could come to life at any moment. He shook off the feeling and activated the Rod of Fire, a stream of flame coming out of it that made easy work of the lock, the heat intense enough that he had to turn his face away from the flames.

The redhead could hear his friends cheer behind him, but their happiness was cut short by the suits of armour coming to life and attacking them.

Adrian dropped the Rod of Fire to better use his staff, which he used to block the swing of a sword. Jowan cast a spell to freeze the suit of armour in place, giving Adrian an opportunity to bash the enemy with his staff, shattering the frozen metal.

The two men heard a woman's squeal from behind them. They turned, ready to fight, only to find that Lily had picked up the Rod of Fire at one point and used it to literally melt her enemy. The boys blinked in mute surprise as Lily clutched the Rod of Fire tightly in both trembling hands, and her light brown hair, normally pinned back in a neat half-bun, disheveled.

"Are you all right?" asked Jowan. The woman brushed off her chantry robe and tried to fix her messy hair in an attempt to regain her composure.

"Yes, I am fine," she replied. Lily held out the Rod of Fire to Adrian, telling him that he could take it back now. The red-haired man put up his hands.

"Keep it," he said. "I have a feeling that that won't be the last of them." Jowan nodded in agreement. Neither man would have Lily go weaponless, considering that a chantry initiate was unlikely to know how to handle a regular weapon and the Rod was easy to use – just point and press the switch. Even a non-mage could use it.

Lily held the Rod of Fire close to her chest and nodded apprehensively. They swung the door open and braved the maze of the repository. They were attacked more of those strange suits of armour and even the occasional magic-wielding ghost. One of which had dropped a staff and Adrian tossed it to Jowan. With all three of them armed, nothing could stand against the might of men's magic and the woman's Rod of Fire and determination to burn anything that moved.

"So," Adrian asked his friends at one point. "What are you guys going to do once you get out?" The two were quiet for a few moments as they thought it over.

"We'll go to the countryside," Jowan began seriously. "Maybe buy a farm once we have enough money. I'll give up all magic and stay away from lyrium."

"And we'll get married and have children," Lily added dreamily. Jowan turned away from his girlfriend, his smile sad and eyes regretful.

"I'll definitely marry you... but I don't think that children are good idea."

"What... why?" Lily asked shocked. Jowan looked down at his trembling hands as though they were hateful things that he wanted to get rid of.

"What if they turn out... like me?" he asked, speaking more to himself than anyone else. "I won't let any child of mine be treated the way my mother treated me. Like some sort of monster." Lily looked down and played with the hem of her sleeves while Adrian looked away, feeling sorry that he asked.

Jowan shook his head and marched forward. "We should keep moving. There's no time to waste." Adrian and Lily followed him as they silently moved through the halls, easily wiping out a group of strange little monsters that looked like worms on legs. It utterly disgusted them.

"What in the Maker's name are those things?!" Lily exclaimed in fright. Adrian frowned in deep thought.

"I've read about these things," he murmured. "I think they're called "Deepstalkers." But they usually prowl the Deep Roads, what the bloody void are they doing on the surface?" Jowan hummed thoughtfully.

"Maybe they followed the darkspawn?" he suggested seriously. That may be a lot closer to the truth than Jowan thought. If a Blight was coming like Duncan believed it was...

"Let's pray that this is a mere coincidence," said Lily. The men nodded in agreement. They had all heard rumours of an impending Blight, or at least a sudden increase in darkspawn activity. The trio decided to move on rather than dwell on the issue. After all, they had more pressing matters to attend to.

Adrian, Jowan and Lily entered a surprisingly well-lit room filled with various magical artifacts. Most likely of Tevinter origin.

This must be the Repository.

Adrian did not know the purpose of many of the artifacts, such as the statue of a wolf that was sitting up (Jowan was particularly interested in that one) and the other statue was of a woman. Her face impartial, her hair impossibly long and she was wearing a long linen dress. Though she was made of stone, her eyes seemed to pierce his very soul. It made him feel as though he was being watched.

Jowan approached the statue, a curious expression on face. "There's something odd about that statue..." he said. Adrian tilted his head to the side.

"I wonder who she is?" The red-haired man mused.

"Greetings."

All of three of them yelped in unison and jumped at the strange, echoey voice. The men were somewhat embarrassed by their rather girlish display but were too freaked out by the disembodied voice _coming from the statue_ to care about their manly pride.

"Maker's breath! Did it just say something?!" squealed Jowan, echoing Adrian's thoughts.

"I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia," the statue introduced itself in a mysterious but emotionless voice. "once consort and adviser to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house."

Adrian suddenly felt bad for this statue. It had once been a real woman, not just the likeness of one.

"Archon Valerius?" inquired Adrian curiously. He had never heard of Valerius, whoever that guy was.

"I'm not sure," answered Jowan. "The archons were the lords of the Imperium. Maybe that's where it's from?"

"The mages of Tevinter did dabble in all kinds of magic that we don't know anything about," Adrian continued.

""Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress," he said." Eleni quoted. ""and tell your lies to all who pass..." But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold." Lily rushed forward and grabbed their arms, trying to pull them away from the statue.

"A Tevinter statue! Don't listen to it!" Lily warned, frightened. "The Tevinter lords dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing!"

Adrian turned back to the statue and gave it a long, hard look. "It must be very old..."

"It must have been here for years," Jowan interjected. He walked up to the statue and wiped a finger on it, picking up a thick layer of dust. "Look at all this dust. I feel a little sorry for it... her."

"Weep not for me, child," said Eleni unfeelingly. "Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again." Adrian frowned in confusion. What was that supposed to mean?

"That doesn't make any sense," he said irritably. Jowan scoffed dismissively.

"Ambiguous rubbish. It could mean anything. I can do it too: The sun grows dark, but lo! Here comes the dawn!" Jowan said in an over-exaggeratedly mysterious voice. Adrian laughed at his friend's antics, causing Jowan to laugh too. Lily, however, did not seem to find any of this funny.

"Stop talking to it," she begged in a frightened tone. "Please, both of you." The two mages exchanged guilty glances and Adrian shrugged in a way that he hoped was nonchalant.

"We can't really do anything with it anyway..." As Lily pulled them away from the statue, Adrian noticed that, from this angle, the wall on the other side of the bookcase across from the wolf-statue was weak and crumbling. It wouldn't take much to knock it down, he reckoned.

The man ran toward the bookcase, calling Jowan over to help him move the bookcase out of the way. With the bookcase moved, he looked through the cracks in the stone of the wall, seeing behind it a room that glowed blue.

"I think I see the phylactery chamber!" Adrian exclaimed excitedly. They were almost there! Jowan ran over to the wolf-statue and examined it with great interest.

"Lily, use the Rod with this little statue," he said seriously. Both Adrian and Lily looked at Jowan in confusion.

"Why?" asked Lily somewhat fearfully.

"These things were used by the Imperium to amplify magic," Jowan began. "If we use this with the Rod of Fire, the blast should be strong enough to knock the wall down." Lily looked unsure but she did it anyway. The two men moved well out of the way as the blast knocked the stone down, just as Jowan said it would. Lily looked pleasantly surprised that despite their earlier missteps, things were going off without a hitch now. They stepped through the hole in the wall stepping into the phylactery chamber. They were attacked once again by three more of those magic suits of armour, these ones more power than the ones from previous encounters. Jowan even lost his borrowed staff in the fight; the thing having been cut in two by one of the sword attacks.

When the fight was over, the three were drained and tired of fight. The mages were unused to using so much of their mana. At this point, they were completely out and really hoped that that was the last of the enemies they would have to fight.

The group decided to split up in their search for Jowan's phylactery.

"A pity they took mine to Denerim," he'd jested, only half-joking.

"You could still escape with us," Lily had replied enthusiastically. "You'd know how to evade them; I just know it! _You're_ clever, not like _me_." Adrian had turned away, a small, wistful smile on his face.

"I wish I could, but my sister would still be here, and I can't abandon her," he'd told her. Oh, how he wished he could leave with them. He was somewhat envious of the plan they had for themselves. It was a dream he'd had for himself for many years. But he doubted that Solona would leave the Circle even if he asked. So he would stay, unless he got sent down South to aid against the darkspawn. For her sake.

Adrian shook his head of these thoughts and climbed up a small flight of stairs where he began to rummage through the various vials of preserved blood. He eventually spotted the one with Jowan's name on it and called the others to him.

Jowan's eyes widened with excitement as he spotted the vial that Adrian held in his hand.

"That's my phylactery!" he exclaimed. "You found it!" Adrian tossed him the small, delicate vial which Jowan caught in his hands. The redhead gave Jowan a smile and tight nod, giving him the signal that the honour was all his. It was, after all, _his_ phylactery. The brunet looked at the small vial in his hand with a dark look in his eyes.

"I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom. So fragile, so easy to get rid of it... to end its hold over me..." With that, Jowan let the phylactery slip out of his hand and fall to the stone floor, the glass shattering. Jowan then sent the blood aflame, completely destroying it. "And I'm free."

"Not yet," said Adrian. "Hate to burst your bubble, but we still need to get out of the tower."

"He's right," Lily agreed. "It's not over yet. I do hope you have a plan, Jowan." Said mage flushed from head to toe, his fingers fidgeting.

"There's a small chance that I may not have thought that far ahead..." Jowan mumbled nervously. Adrian and Lily groaned in unison and face-palmed epically.

"Jowan!" chastised the female.

"Are you _sure_ you still want to breed with him?" Adrian questioned Lily.

"I'm rethinking my life choices," Lily groaned.

"HEY!" Adrian patted his offended friend on the back.

"We're just teasing you," Adrian assured with an amused glint in his eye. He suddenly turned serious. "But luckily for you, I _did_ think of a plan to get out. Now, everyone, listen up!" Jowan and Lily jumped in surprised at the sudden and unexpected commanding tone to their friend's voice and immediately listened attentively.

"First order of business is to clean up this mess. The templars are unlikely to notice one single phylactery being missing until Jowan's gone. Second, we can't be seen leaving the basement. Lily, you'll exit first to see if the coast is clear. A chantry priestess hanging around the door is a lot less suspicious than a mage and an apprentice. Third, is the hard part... getting past the templars guarding the front door. I can use a sleep spell on them, but it won't last for long, so don't waste time, don't stop for any of your possessions; just go. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Jowan said with a mock salute. Jowan and Lily got to cleaning up the glass pieces of the phylactery and hid it in a chest nearby while Adrian rearranged the vials to hide the fact that one was missing. They then traversed the halls from which they came, deciding against disturbing the warded door. He had a feeling that the door could be opened from the inside, but if that was found open, well... it wouldn't be good for them, that was for certain. It needed to look like no one had been down here.

Once they reached the exit, they made sure that the door to the repository was shut tight in spite of the melted locks (Adrian hoped that no one would notice that for a while. They were bound to see the melted locks once they investigated Jowan's escape, and trace it back to him – the last person to ask for a Rod of Fire.) and sent Lily to check to see if they would exit the basement safely.

After a few, agonizingly long moments, Lily gave them the signal that the coast was clear. The boys followed her out and breathed a sigh of relief. One breathed too soon.

"We did it! I can't believe it!" Jowan exclaimed. "Thank you... we could never have –"

"So what you said was true, Irving," said the very last voice any of them wanted to hear. Adrian heart fell into his stomach. It was Knight-Commander Greagoir... accompanied by the First Enchanter, a squad of templars in full armour and... Solona? What was _she_ doing there?

"Well, shit," said Adrian, trying not to let his terror show.

"G-greagoir," stammered Lily who shrank back in fear.

"An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage." The Knight-Commander shook his head in disappointment, like a man scolding his daughter. "I'm disappointed, Lily." Greagoir then walked up to Lily until he stood toe-to-toe with her, the man towering over the priestess who was too afraid to move.

"She seems shocked but fully in control of her own mind," he said coldly. Maybe that was because Jowan was not a blood mage. But Adrian thought better of speaking his protests aloud. Now was not the time to pick a fight. Which was why he grabbed the growling Jowan by the arm. "Not a thrall of the blood mage, then," the Knight-Commander continued as he turned his back on the shaking priestess. "You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not allow this to go unpunished." Lily yelped quietly and moved closer to Jowan who was glaring holes in the Knight-Commander's head.

"And _this one_," Greagoir spat, waving his hand in Adrian's general direction. "Newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the Circle!" The mage rolled his eyes. Did he really expect anything else? "I knew you were going to be trouble. I should have made you tranquil ages ago, but Irving defended you. And this is how you thank him?!" Adrian jerked and took a step back. Tranquil? Irving... defending him? He never knew any of that. Nothing else seemed to register in his mind. Not Irving's disappointment, not the look of confusion and terror on Solona's face, and certainly not Jowan's explosive anger which Lily had to calm. What did Greagoir mean by all that? Sure, he'd had... problems when he was a teenager, but it was nothing to make him tranquil over. Heck, Anders had done worse with his constant escape attempts and yet he still passed his Harrowing. So why would they – unless... Unless he was talking about _that_ incident.

"Enough!" the booming command from the Knight-Commander's gruff voice startled Adrian back to the present before his mind headed to the dark places he didn't want it to be in. "As knight-commander of the templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death. And this initiate has scorned the chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar." Aeonar... the mage's prison... why send _her_ _there_? She was no mage, what good would it do, other than being vindictive?

Lily took several steps back, murmuring, "No, not there..."

"No!" Jowan bellowed in righteous anger, pulling a knife from his boot. "I won't let you touch her!" And Jowan stabbed the knife into his hand, the blood floating up due to Jowan's power, the liquid becoming hard and sharp like spears and Jowan sent them flying toward the group of templars, piercing through their armour and shredding through the First Enchanter's robes. Only Solona was unscathed, the blood-spears seeming to deliberately miss her. Adrian and Lily watched with a mixture of awe and horror as they had never actually seen blood magic in action before.

"Solona, you might want to get out of here," said Jowan. The young woman got her feet, her body trembling.

"Jowan... I've known you for a long time, and I never took you for the type! Do you really think I'll leave you alone with my brother and the First Enchanter?!"

"Solona..." murmured her brother in astonishment.

"By the Maker," Lily murmured in horror, her green eyes screaming betrayal as tears fell from them. "Blood magic! H-how could you? You said you never..." Jowan looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze as he shifted uncomfortably.

"I admit, I... I dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!" Like that makes it any better you fucking liar...

Lily shook her head, unconvinced, as tears continued to stream from her eyes. "Blood magic is evil, Jowan. It corrupts people... changes them…"

"I'm going to give it up. All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily," begged Jowan. "Please, come with me..." Lily face twisted with anger.

"I trusted you," she murmured. "I was ready to sacrifice everything for you... I... I don't know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me..." Jowan jerked as though he had been physically struck and turned to Adrian who looked at his best friend coldly, his blue eyes like ice as he said, "You heard the lady."

Jowan's still-bloody hands clenched at his sides, saying nothing, his face unreadable, as he stood there for several moments. And then he ran.

Adrian noticed that Irving and the templars were stirring awake, with Solona tending to the First Enchanter.

"Are you all right?" He asked the young mages and the priestess. He looked around. "Where's Greagoir?"

"I knew it..." spat Greagoir who pulled himself to his feet. "blood magic. But to overcome so many... I never thought him capable of such power..."

"None of us expected this," said Irving as Adrian and Solona pulled the old man to his feet. "Are you all right, Greagoir?

Greagoir scoffed bitterly. "As good as can be expected given the circumstances! If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!" Greagoir turned to Adrian and glared at him. The mage turned away from the Knight-Commander. Saying nothing was probably the wiser course of action.

"Where's the girl?" Greagoir demanded frustratedly.

"I... I am here, ser," murmured Lily nervously.

"You helped a blood mage!" he scolded. "Look at all he's hurt!"

"She didn't know!" Adrian spoke up. "She didn't know that he was a blood mage. Lily wiped away her tears and stood up straight.

"You've been a good friend, but you needn't defend me any longer." Lily approached the knight-commander. "Knight-Commander... I... I was wrong. I was accomplice to a... a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even..." she gulped. "even Aeonar." Knight-Commander Greagoir pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Get her out of my sight." The templars who were the least injured did as they were told and lead the defeated priestess away. Greagoir turned to Adrian angrily. "And you. You know why the repository exists. Some artifacts – some magics – are locked away for a reason!"

"Did you take anything from the repository?" Iriving asked gently. Adrian gave them a deadpan look.

"I wasn't there to loot, you know..." Greagoir scoffed.

"Some honesty, at last. But your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah... what are we to do with you?" Adrian looked away, a defeated look in his own eyes.

"Do whatever you want... I frankly don't care anymore." What could they do to him that they hadn't already? Send him to Aeonar? Prison didn't scare him. He was already in one. Had been since he was still in short-pants. Tranquility? Illegal. And Adrian knew Knight-Commander Greagoir was too pious and dedicated to the Chantry to go against their laws. Solitary? He'd done it once, he could do it again. Kill him? That would be a mercy at this point. What was the point of a life spent caged in a tower that didn't even allow for looking outside (the windows were of painted glass and too high for a mage to reach).

"Brother..." chastised Solona sounding shocked. Adrian didn't dare meet her eyes.

"Knight-Commander, if I may..." interrupted a very familiar voice from behind Adrian. Duncan...? Adrian turned to look at the grizzled Grey Warden who wore a wry smile on his bearded face. "I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens." The jaws of everyone in that room dropped to the floor.

"What?!" they all screamed in unison.

"Irving spoke highly of this mage. And I would like him to join the Warden ranks." Adrian blinked several times; his brain slow to comprehend what Duncan was saying. Join the Warden ranks...? Did this mean... that he was going to be a Grey Warden? _Him_?

"Does this mean that Brother's going to be Grey Warden?" asked Solona, echoing her brother's thoughts.

"Yes, child," Irving responded. "A far luckier stroke than you know, considering he aided a maleficar."

"That's right. He is a danger. To all of us," interjected Greagoir.

"It is a rare person who risks all for a friend in need," Duncan argued. "My decision stands – I invoke the Right of Conscription." Greagoir growled in anger.

"No! I refuse to let this go unpunished!"

"Greagoir... you know that even the chantry can't fight the Right of Conscription," Irving told him calmly, his eyes weary. Greagoir cursed under his breath.

"A blood mage escapes, and his accomplice is not only unpunished, but is rewarded by becoming a Grey Warden. Are our rules nothing? Have we lost all authority over our mages? This does not bode well, Irving."

"Enough. We have no more say in this matter," Irving replied wearily.

"I'm going to be a Warden..." Adrian murmured trying to wrap his head around all of this.

"Yes, you are," said Irving. "But first... I must ask that you return your staff." Adrian blinked in confusion. His staff? Oh. He understood. Without a single word he handed the staff back to First Enchanter Irving, then turned to Solona to bid her goodbye. The girl threw her arms around her brother and begged him to stay safe. The life of a Grey Warden was, after all, a dangerous one. The elder Amell sibling smiled and said, "I'll be fine. No darkspawn is going to take me down. Are you going to be all right here by yourself?" Solona nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I'll be all right. Just you watch, Brother, I'll be the best enchantress in the Circle," she'd told him confidently. Adrian couldn't contain his laughter.

"I'll hold you to that one," he said laughing. His sister laughed too despite her tears.

"Goodbye, Brother..."

"Goodbye, Sister." With that he turned around and left with Duncan who told that his new life was awaiting him. A new life... outside of the Circle. What would that even be like?

"Adrian!" called a woman's voice. The human mage turned. It was Enchanter Neria, who was breathing hard and her hair disheveled. Did she run all the way here?

"You've gotten yourself into quite the pickle, this time, haven't you?" she stated, her tone surprisingly unaccusatory.

"Yeah..." he murmured. Dammit, Enchanter Neria was the last person he wanted to disappoint. Even more so than Irving.

"Jowan... a blood mage... I would never have guessed," she said.

"I didn't either," he spat out far too quickly and defensively. "He told me that he never used blood magic. I... I..."

"You didn't think he would lie to you?" Neria finished for him. Adrian nodded.

"He lied to his girlfriend too," he added.

"I heard," Neria nodded. "But that doesn't excuse helping someone leave the Circle before they're ready, you know that, don't you?" the elven woman sighed. "Still, perhaps this is for the best... you always wanted out of the Circle." Neria looked at him with confusion. "Where's your staff? Didn't First Enchanter Irving give you one this morning?"

"Yes, but he took it back. I'm unworthy of it, I guess." Enchanter Neria hummed.

"I see." She gripped her own staff tightly and then loosened her grip, handing the staff to her former student who looked at her puzzled. "Take mine." Adrian nearly choked on the air he breathed.

"I can't do that! It's yours!"

"I insist," Enchanter Neria told him stubbornly. "Take it with you, and I'll feel like a part of me is keeping you safe out there." Dammit, now that she put it that way, he couldn't say no. The younger mage could no more argue with her than he could with his own mother (not that he had any memory of Revka Amell beyond brief flashes of her face).

"I... Thank you," he said, taking the staff in hand. He looked back at Duncan who was _very_ interested in the paintings on the wall. Perhaps this was the gruff Warden's way giving him some privacy. Enchanter Neria smiled at him somewhat wistfully.

"You're welcome. Stay safe, my boy," she said worriedly.

"I will, Enchanter."

_I will, Mother..._

The mage approached the Grey Warden, staff in hand, and cleared his throat.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Duncan. Adrian nodded.

"Yes. I am ready."

"Good. Let us be off. The king's army awaits at Ostagar."

As they approached the large doors of the Circle Tower, Adrian began to feel a bit nervous, his breath hitching in his throat. He took a deep breath and, as the doors swung open, he followed Duncan into the light of day.

* * *

**~ Darth Synkka**


	5. Interlude 1: Duncan

**Author's Note: This is a sort of in-between chapter about the origin story but from Duncan's point of view. These chapters from another character's point of view will be few in number and kind of short. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

* * *

When Duncan entered the Circle Tower, he immediately began assessing the mages for Grey Warden material. While mages were very capable in terms of skill due to their magic, none of them possessed the attitude that he was looking for. The life of a Grey Warden was one of sacrifice, after all. It was also a very thankless life.

Duncan was certain that Irving and Greagoir would not be happy with him. They had already given the king's army nearly all of the most senior mages, and yet here was, ready to demand more. The Warden felt a little guilty asking this of his old friend, but he was sure that this was a Blight. So few mages in the army would not do at all.

So, here he was, ready to demand greater aid from the Circle (and if he was really lucky, he could convince Greagoir to spare a few of his templars as well) and, since he was here anyway, why not recruit a mage or two for the Wardens?

It was mid-morning when Duncan found himself in Irving's office, the elderly mage in a surprisingly good mood. It was then that Duncan's interest was especially peaked. Last night, one of the students had passed something called the "Harrowing". As Duncan understood it, the test was a rite of passage of sorts that every young mage must go through.

It was a rather dangerous test, Irving informed him. One that could very well cost the mage his life.

Not unlike the Joining, then.

As Irving told it, this boy was one of the most talented young mages in the Circle and was a personal favourite student of the First Enchanter's. He'd rather like to meet this young man, if he had the chance.

Duncan brought up the topic of more aid from the Circle while Irving was still in a good mood. The First Enchanter was actually quite open to the idea of allowing more mages to participate in the defense of Ferelden, but Greagoir was… not fond of it. As far as he was concerned, the Circle has already given too much as it was. It had turned into a heated argument between the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter that was interrupted by a blue-eyed, red-haired mage who looked as though he wanted their attention.

"Gentlemen, please," he'd interrupted. "Irving, I think someone wants to see you."

* * *

The Warden was pleasantly surprised by the auburn-haired mage. He actually _wanted_ to defend Ferelden from the darkspawn. Duncan promised that he would speak to Irving about this matter, and he would. But would the mage – Adrian – be willing to fight darkspawn as a lifelong calling?

Duncan couldn't be sure, and he would much rather his recruits join willingly as opposed to invoking the Right of Conscription. Of course, the Warden Commander wasn't above conscripting people if he had to, as he had with Daveth back in Denerim and as he had been forced to do with Alistair. He hadn't _wanted_ to conscript Alistair, that young man was more than willing to give his life to the Wardens and their cause, but the Revered Mother was unwilling to let him go.

Ultimately, the decision would remain with Adrian, but he would still get Irivng's blessing before giving the young mage the option. If he said no, then Duncan would respect that and look elsewhere. He already planned on going to Orzammar to petition for aid against the darkspawn anyway. He could always look there for more recruits once he got his hands on those old treaties.

(The dwarven king wouldn't be able to refuse if Duncan waved _that_ treaty in front of his face.)

* * *

It turns that he needn't have bothered. After escorting him to his room, the mage had gotten into some trouble involving another mage. He had assisted his friend, scheduled for Tranquility (not that Duncan knew much about that particular rite), to escape from the Circle with his beloved.

That mage had turned to blood magic in order to protect his girlfriend from Aeonar. No, he had turned to blood magic a long time ago. His friend and beloved had just never known. The red-haired mage and the chantry initiate had both believed that a great injustice was being done.

The dark-haired young man had run off, leaving his friend and girlfriend to deal with the fallout.

He intervened and invoked the Right of Conscription on the boy. He seemed upset about being an accomplice to an escape on false pretenses but not about becoming a Warden.

That was good.

Duncan allowed Adrian Amell to say his goodbyes to the brown-eyed woman with the same colour of hair as his – his younger sister – as well as the middle-aged elven woman who had given him her staff. Her green eyes shone with motherly love as they said goodbye and the two men were off.

* * *

**~ Darth Synkka **


	6. Chapter 4: The Journey South

**Author's Note: This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the others, only about half as long as chapters 1 through 3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age **

* * *

When Adrian stepped out of the Circle Tower, it was a literal breath of fresh air. He gripped Enchanter Neria's staff tightly, trying to remember the last time he'd been outside. It was a very long time ago, he knew.

Adrian looked up at the overcast sky, almost a little upset that the sun had chosen _today_ to hide itself away. He then felt something drip on his skin. It was light at first, but it gradually got heavier. He blinked once. Twice. Three times as he raised his hand to catch the drops. Was this… rain?

Adrian hardly noticed that Duncan had turned and looked at him strangely.

"Are you all right?" The grizzled Grey Warden asked.

"I've never seen the rain," Adrian replied in a dreamy voice. "They used to let us out once a week to get fresh air, but that was always on sunny days." And in Kirkwall, he hadn't even been allowed that much. In a classroom by day and in a jail-cell by night.

"But they don't anymore?" Duncan inquired with his eyebrows raised. The mage shook his head.

"Not since an apprentice made a break for it." Adrian chuckled darkly as they stepped into the ferry. "Jumped right off the dock and swam for shore." And it had been a glorious thing to watch, even if they had all been punished for it afterwards.

"Ah," Duncan grunted as they left the dock. They would most likely have to stay at the inn once they got off the ferry until the rain stopped. The three men on the ferry were silent as the boat brought them to shore. Adrian wasn't really paying attention to that. He was too busy taking in the sights of Lake Calenhad and enjoying the feeling of the cool water from the rain on his face (he wasn't fond of his robes sticking to his skin though). The light from the day got dimmer with each passing minute and the young mage wondered if they would travel by night or make camp somewhere.

It wasn't long before a light could be seen, and the ferry man saw that shore was just ahead. The balding man suggested that they stay at the inn for the night considering the weather and the darkspawn. Adrian looked to Duncan who grunted in agreement.

"With the darkspawn roaming, it would probably be best."

"So, you still headed to Ostagar, Warden?" the ferryman asked. "Bit of a long trip from here, innit? Two, maybe three days, I reckon."

"Longer than that," Duncan said. "I must go to Redcliffe to speak with Arl Eamon before I return."

"Ah. So, who's the mage?" the ferryman asked.

"My latest recruit," Duncan replied brightly.

"Well, I'll be," breathed the ferryman in disbelief. "You know, Mage, you should count yourself lucky. Becoming a Grey Warden is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." _Especially for your kind, _was what he didn't say.

"I'm aware of that," was all Adrian said in reply, ignoring the fact that he'd been called "Mage" like it was something particularly nasty. He supposed to normal people (or "normies" as Anders oh-so-lovingly called them), it was. The boat docked on the shore of the lake and the duo entered the relatively empty inn where Duncan payed for a room for the night.

The room was simple but big enough for two people. It also, thankfully, had two cots, a bathtub and a fireplace. Duncan had taken something out of his pack and tossed it at Adrian. It was clean, dry clothes.

"You shouldn't stay in wet clothes. You might catch cold," Duncan said as he left, probably to give him his privacy. Adrian blinked in surprise. Privacy was a luxury that apprentices were not afforded.

Adrian yanked off his wet mage's robes and let them fall to the floor with a wet slap. He pulled on the white, short tunic with the short sleeves and the brown trousers. He stood barefoot, enjoying the feeling of the wood floor against the soles of his feet. The Circle tower had been all stone and marble – sterile and lifeless.

Adrian cast a spell to dry the robes and took the Circle ring off his finger. The insignia of the Circle glowed against the silver metal of the ring. A feeling of hatred took a vice-like hold of his heart. He despised that place and was glad to leave it behind. He put the ring in the pocket of his magically-dried robes and shoved the robes in the chest at the end of the bed. He wanted no reminders of his time in the Circle.

He put his boots back on and left the room and went down the stairs, leaving the staff behind. Adrian was curious to see how people would treat him if they didn't know that he was a mage.

He spotted Duncan sitting at one of the wooden tables with two bowls of what looked like some kind of stew, steaming hot, on it. Adrian's stomach made its lack of food known. He realized that so much had happened since he had gotten up that morning, that he hadn't had the time to stop and eat.

He wolfed down the food enthusiastically, drawing strange looks from the people in the inn.

"Hungry, are we?" said Duncan.

"Uh huh. So much happened today that I didn't really have the time to stop and eat, you know?"

"Ah," Duncan hummed passively. The two ate in silence, Adrian knowing in the back of his mind that he must have looked like a madman, but he was too hungry to care. The mage's eyes widened in shock as Duncan ordered them a couple of drinks. The taste was bitter on his tongue and burned on the way down, but he didn't mind. He hadn't had alcohol since he was sixteen.

He smiled wistfully as he remembered sneaking into the templar quarters on one fateful Satinalia with Anders and Jowan, and... relieved the templars of their holiday wine. They had distributed the wine to the rest of the apprentices (well, most of them... he would never allow Solona to get involved in such shenanigans, not even back then), and they had thrown quite the party. Jowan had been quite the lightweight and passed out rather quickly, Anders had gotten it on with his special friend Karl and even Adrian had scored with one of the apprentice girls. It had been, overall, a really fun night.

The next morning, on the other hand... not so much. He'd spent the next day nursing a terrible hangover (as were the majority of the apprentices) and getting quite the earful from the Knight-Commander, whose templars were in no better shape. Irving found the whole thing really funny and convinced Greagoir that the three of them were just a bunch of teenage boys cooped up for too long and to let it go.

Adrian was twenty-three now and his days of wild, teenage shenanigans were long behind him. A dark cloud descended on his mind. A lot of things had changed since then. Karl had been transferred to the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall and Anders... hadn't taken it well. Adrian had a feeling that what Anders had with Karl was no casual fling. He might have even loved him.

Anders calmed down with Karl around; he was less angry and actually put an end to his escape attempts. But the moment he was gone, Anders had started his escape attempts again. The last attempt had landed him in solitary confinement for a full year. He was still there, as far as he knew.

And Jowan... how long had he been practicing blood magic? How long had his best friend been lying to him?

"Are you all right?" asked Duncan, snapping from his thoughts.

"Huh, oh, fine," he replied curtly. "Just thinking. Say, Duncan, are there other mages in the Wardens, or is it just me?" The grizzled Warden leaned back against his chair, humming in thought.

"Well, that depends on the nation," Duncan began. "And on the Warden Commander. Each nation has its own Wardens that act independently from each other. Technically, Wardens are only supposed to have one mage at a time. But that's more of a guideline than a rule. In reality, there are as many mages as the Commander sees fit. I, myself, only have one other mage under my command. Go to Orlais or Tevinter and you'll find many mages in the Warden ranks. But the Wardens here in Ferelden are so few and I haven't had the opportunity to recruit many mages. To answer your question, no, you are not the _sole_ mage but there aren't many."

Adrian hummed despondently. He wasn't sure how he felt about being surrounded by so many normal people. The only good thing about the being in the Circle was being amongst other people who were like him.

"Are you nervous about being around non-mages?" Duncan asked him as though he had read his mind.

"No! Well... maybe..." Adrian sighed. He really hoped that he hadn't offended the man who very well might have saved his life. "Look, I've been in the Circle for twenty years, and normal people... have never been _real_ to me. They were just this... faceless entity that needed protection from me. I just... I don't know..."

"You're not certain how to talk to "normal" people?" Duncan guessed. Adrian shifted uncomfortably. How did Duncan manage to keep guessing what was on his mind?

"Yeah…"

"You don't seem to have an issue with talking to _me_, and I'm normal," the Warden pointed out. "Just be yourself, and remember that my men have seen far, far worse than blood mages, demons and even abominations. They have nothing to fear from you and you have nothing to fear from them." Adrian wanted to scoff, to tell him that non-mages hated people like him and always would. But he couldn't. Duncan seemed so damn sincere that he found himself believing him.

It was foolish, he knew, to trust this stranger when his best friend of fifteen years had lied to his face without a moment's hesitation. But if he was going to spend the rest of his life with these people, he might as well get along with them.

The two eventually retired to their room, Adrian attempting to sleep but the excitement of the day keeping his mind alert and body awake while Duncan took to writing letters. One to the arl of Redcliffe and one to Ostagar. He said he wanted to send word to them ahead of time.

The next morning, the Warden and the recruit wasted no time getting their things together and leaving the inn. Adrian deliberately left his old robes and Ring of Study behind in the chest that he left them in last night. He wouldn't be needing them in his new life as a Grey Warden.

They took the Imperial Highway to Redcliffe, a route that would take longer but would be quite a bit safer. They passed by Gherlon's Pass, the route to the city of Orzammar. A part of Adrian would have really liked to see the city of the dwarves (he had never even seen a dwarf before), but they had other priorities. Duncan had assured him, however, that he had plans to go to Orzammar to petition the dwarven king for assistance against the darkspawn, depending on how things went at Ostagar. He may actually get to go to Orzammar one day.

"Do you really think that this a Blight?" he'd asked Duncan.

"I'm certain of it," the older man had replied cryptically.

"Do you think the army at Ostagar can defeat it?" Duncan had remained silent for several moments, his brows furrowed in a frown.

"The king thinks so."

That wasn't much of an answer, but Adrian chose not to comment.

At one point, Duncan and Adrian had run into a small band of darkspawn and, frankly, nothing the mage had seen could compare to how monstrous the creatures were. Not even in the Fade. He could practically smell the corruption on them.

Adrian had cast a spell that channelled cold out of his hand so intense that it froze two of the darkspawn in place. He then found a safe place behind a Blight-tainted tree and chanted a spell under his breath that enchanted Duncan's sword and dagger with flame. Not all spells required a verbal chant, but the more advanced the spell, the more a mage needed to speak the spell aloud in order to cast it.

The old Warden barely blinked at the sudden fire engulfing his weapons, doing extra damage to his enemies and leaving a foul smell in the air.

The redhead couldn't do much, the majority of his concentration (and mana) being used to keep up the mana-draining enchantment. Still, he was in awe of what a force to be reckoned with Duncan was. He moved with a speed and grace that Adrian didn't think that a man his age was capable of. The monstrous darkspawn didn't stand a chance.

With a grin, a bloody Duncan thanked him for his help, though he didn't do much. A morbid sense of curiosity drew his gaze toward the corpses of the dead darkspawn. Their disgusting blood, black and poisonous as sin, seeped from their bodies and was absorbed by the land, any vegetation it touched from grass, to flowers to trees dead and black from the Blight.

If less than a dozen darkspawn could cause this kind of damage, what could a true Blight do?

* * *

Adrian had burned those corpses. Duncan told him that it would keep the taint from spreading any further. The smell that filled the air as the darkspawn bodies were consumed by the flames nearly made the mage lose his lunch. Even Duncan wasn't immune to the vile odor, it seemed.

They stopped for the night in a village called Honnleath, where a rather large statue overlooked the town. It looked like those pictures of golems, large stone soldiers that the dwarves used to produce _en masse_, that he had seen. The statue would have looked very menacing if it weren't for the children swinging on its outstretched arms and the pigeons perched upon its head. The sight was actually... kind of silly.

They were gone from that village at the crack of dawn, making excellent time and had arrived at Redcliffe before the sun had even reached its peak. Duncan went on the castle while Adrian explored the town. He had been given money as well as the task of replenishing their supplies.

He walked across the docks and stepped onto the sand of the beach on the edge of the lake. They had walked all the way to the other end of Lake Calenhad. He could still see the Circle Tower, but it seemed so small from here. So… unimposing. Was it really only a couple of days ago that he had been chained to that place?

He kicked off his boots and socks, and set them aside, feeling the sand between his toes. He put his staff on the ground next to his boots, gingerly stepped toward the edge of the water, and allowed the cool liquid to lap at his toes and submerge his feet.

The feeling of the sun on his face, and the sounds of the waves on the lake and the birds flying over-head, reminded him of home – of Kirkwall. All that was missing was the salty smell of the sea. Not that he got to see much of it.

His thoughts wandered to his pre-Ferelden life. His life before the Circle existed only in brief flashes in his memories. His house hadn't been small, he remembered that much. Solona did mention that their family was very rich, nobles in fact. That would actually explain why he and Solona were allowed to stay together. Normally, the Chantry went out of its way to keep mages from forming family ties; separating siblings and taking children away from mage women who got pregnant in the Circle (like what happened to Enchanter Neria when she was only a little younger than him). But mages from noble families always got more leeway.

He wasn't sad to leave Kirkwall. He had been only seven at the time, so details were a little fuzzy, but he would never forget being locked in a windowless cell meant for Tevinter slaves. He was glad that Solona had never actually lived there. The worst she had ever experienced was being locked in the brig of the ship that had taken them across the Waking Sea on their way to Ferelden. And he was grateful for that.

Adrian smiled a little. Andraste's ass, what a shock it was to find out that he had a sister! His seven-year-old mind somewhat remembered there being a baby in his family, but the girl before him had been five years old. She had had the same red hair as his own and shared his surname, so he accepted the notion. Little Solona had taken to him immediately and clung to him for a sense of security (not that he minded this little girl looking to him for protection). Apparently, their mother had talked about him a lot. It had made his heart ache to know that his mom hadn't forgotten him. He hadn't been sure if it was with happiness or sorrow. He still wasn't sure...

"Hey, mister!" called out the voice of a prepubescent boy. Adrian immediately snapped out of his musings and looked behind him. It was a young boy of about ten or eleven with messy blonde hair and small, wooden sword across his back. "What are you doing over there?" Adrian flushed pink at having been caught deep in his thoughts and chuckled nervously.

"Just thinking," he answered vaguely. The boy cocked his head to the side curiously.

"About what?" the boy wondered. Adrian hummed in thought.

"Nothing important," he told him. Reluctantly, he stepped away from the water, put his socks and boots back on, and picked up his staff. The boy was looking at him wide-eyed but said nothing. Adrian suddenly remembered that he had to refill the supplies.

"Damn! Is there a general store around here somewhere? I'll be heading off soon and I need to make sure that I have plenty of supplies for the trip." The boy nodded.

"I'll show you. Come on!" He allowed himself to be dragged back toward the docks, where the houses were tightly compacted, and all looked the same.

"So, are you a mage?" asked the boy bluntly in a hushed voice. Adrian stopped, wide-eyed. How did this kid know? He hadn't cast any spells while he was here in Redcliffe.

"No," he fibbed. "Of course not." The boy gave him a knowing smile.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." The blond suddenly got very serious, well... as serious as a ten-year-old could get. "So long as you don't tell my sister or my mum that I'm going to be an adventurer one day!" Adrian gave the boy a wry smile.

"Oh, are you now?"

"Yeah, my grandfather was a great dragon-hunter, you know," the boy insisted. "Father even said that I can have his sword when I grow up!" Adrian raised a questioning eyebrow. He didn't mention his father before.

"And where is your father?" The boy's face fell, his blue-eyed gaze locked on the ground.

"Ostagar. He's fighting the darkspawn, he is. And while he's gone, I'm the man of the house. So, I'm going to protect Mum and Kaitlyn!"

"I'm sure you will."

"Oh, here's the store!" exclaimed the boy. Adrian looked up at the building, the sign indicating that this was, indeed, the General Store.

"Thanks, kid," he said. The boy huffed in indignation.

"The name's Bevin..." Adrian chuckled and shook his head.

"See you around, Bevin."

The mage entered the store and replenished their supplies without any semblance of an incident and, by the time he was finished in the store, Duncan was coming down the hill toward the town.

The audience seemed to have gone relatively well. Arl Eamon would be able to mobilize his army and get them to Ostagar in just a few days. Duncan did not seem entirely satisfied with that, but it would have to do.

They moved on from the village, moved through the Imperial Highway and, eventually, the beginnings of the Korcari Wilds. They encountered a couple of ragtag groups of darkspawn as they entered the Wilds. It was every bit as horrifying as the last encounter near Orzammar but Adrian already found himself getting used to it. If the rest of his days would be spent fighting these things, then he would _have_ to get used it.

Before Adrian knew it, a large, crumbling but still imposing ruin came into view.

They were here. The ruins of Ostagar.

* * *

**Author's Note: The next chapter, we meet King Cailan, Alistair and Elissa Cousland. Let me know what you think**

**~ Darth Synkka**


	7. Chapter 5: Arrival at Ostagar

**Author's Note: So we're finally here. The origin is truly behind us and we can get to the real beginning of our tale. I hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

* * *

_We will be traveling south through the hinterlands to the ruin of Ostagar, on the edges of the Korcari Wilds. The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's fitting we make our stand here, even if we face a different foe within that forest. The king's forces clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are here. This Blight must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall._

* * *

Adrian looked at the Ostagar ruins in awe. Only in books had he seen anything so amazing. The duo was approached by a young blond man, probably not much older than Adrian himself, two braids tied at the back of his head, in fine golden armour and elegant greatsword on his back.

"Ho there, Duncan!" waved the man enthusiastically. Duncan looked wide-eyed at the smiling man. He clearly wasn't expecting him. Adrian wondered who he was...

He must have been someone very important.

"King Cailan, I didn't expect –"

"A royal welcome?" the man finished cheekily. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun." Duncan gave the young man – the _King_ – a cheeky grin.

"Not if I could help it, your Majesty."

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious! The other Wardens told me you've found a promising recruit," the King said. "I take it this is he?"

"Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty –" Duncan began. King Cailan waved him off dismissively.

"No need to be so formal, Duncan," chastised the King. "We'll be shedding blood together, after all. Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?" Adrian blinked a few times as his mind registered the fact that the king of Ferelden was addressing him. Him! Some nobody from the Circle of Magi.

"Um… it's – it's Adrian Amell, your Majesty," he stammered. The king gave him an easy smile, easing the mage into relaxing his posture.

"Pleased to meet you, Adrian!" the king greeted with an enthusiastic grin. "The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them. I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?" Adrian rubbed the back of neck nervously. He wasn't sure what exactly he was expecting when he got to Ostagar, but a warm welcome from the King himself, who was well aware that he was a mage, was not it.

"Well, I'm only recently out of my apprenticehood," he admitted honestly. He couldn't bring himself to omit something like that to such an earnest guy.

"Your abilities are still above those of other men," the king pointed out with a casual shrug. "That the Grey Wardens have recruited you says much. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar," continued King Cailan with a winning smile. "The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

"Uh, thank you, your Majesty."

"Now, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent," said King Cailan seriously. "Loghain awaits eagerly to bore me with his strategies."

"Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week," Duncan informed the king. King Cailan scoffed and shook his head, turning on his heel and taking a few steps away from them.

"Eamon just wants in on the glory," he said dismissively. "We've won three battles against these monsters, and tomorrow shall be no different."

"You sound very confident of that," Adrian said pointedly before he could keep his mouth shut. But the king didn't seem to mind. He actually laughed heartily.

"_Over_-confident, some would say. Right, Duncan?" said the king with a cheeky wink. Duncan shifted in what might have been discomfort.

"I just don't think that the Blight can be defeat as... quickly as you might wish," he said to the king. Cailan frowned.

"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight," he mused. "There are plenty of darkspawn the field, but, alas, we've seen no sign of an archdemon."

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan questioned, an eyebrow raised, in a surprisingly casual fashion. King Cailan turned his head and looked at them with a slight pout.

"I'd just hoped for a war like in the tales." The young monarch got a dreamy look in his blue eyes. "A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god!" The King sighed in resignation. "But I suppose this will have to do." Cailan turned around and shook his head with a playful roll of his eyes.

"I must go but Loghain send out a search party." The king then straightened his posture and clasped his hands behind his back. "Farewell, Grey Wardens!" With that, King Cailan was gone, returning to the camp with his guards in toe.

Duncan turned to his new recruit and informed him that King Cailan was right about having won multiple battles against the darkspawn. It seemed that the Ferelden army was beating back the horde with relative ease. So, why did Duncan seem so worried?

"Yet you don't sound very reassured," Adrian observed. Duncan sighed and gestured for the mage to walk with him.

"Despite the victories so far," Duncan began. "the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us." The stopped as they reached a second bridge, the one that would take them to the main camp. "I know there is an archdemon behind this. But I cannot ask the king to ask solely on my feeling." Adrian was a little confused. The king seemed to look at the Wardens with very high regard. If Duncan thought that Cailan was acting recklessly, he might actually listen to the Warden.

"I don't know, Duncan. He seems to really respect the Wardens. He might actually listen to you." The old Warden scoffed dismissively.

"And yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais," he retorted with a disapproving shake of his head. "Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference." Teyrn Loghain... he'd heard of the man, though only little. Loghain MacTir was a hero from Ferelden's very recent war for independence from the Orlesian Empire. A very well-respected man. "To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay." Adrian frowned in confusion. He'd never heard of this Joining ritual before.

"Joining? What Joining?"

"It is the ritual that makes us Wardens what we are," Duncan explained.

"And why wasn't I notified of this before?" Adrian questioned suspiciously. Duncan sighed through his nose.

"In truth, because the Joining is dangerous. And it could very well cost you your life. Not unlike your Harrowing." All the colour drained from Adrian's face. "But, since you passed your Harrowing, I have every confidence that you'll pass the Joining as well." Adrian gulped and nodded wordlessly. It was a little late to start saying "no" now, he supposed. He really just wanted to get this Joining thing over with. This Joining that would take place tonight, according to Duncan.

The older man told him that he was free to explore the camp for the time being and also told him to see another Warden by the name of Alistair when he was ready so that they could summon the other recruits. So, he wasn't the only one, after all.

With that, Duncan and Adrian went their separate ways, the mage deciding to take Duncan's advice and explore the camp. All of this was totally and completely new to him, after all. The soldier guarding the entrance to the camp greeted him (by calling him "my Lord" of all things!) and was kind enough to offer him some information about the basic layout of the area.

He entered the camp and spotted the two most heavily guarded tents to his left. Standing outside one of them was a woman with long dark hair braided to the side, armed with an elegant longsword and beaten up old shield; accompanied only by a mabari warhound. A mabari warhound that seemed to find him very interesting. The dog had jumped on him and gave him quite the tongue-lashing.

"Down!" he commanded. But the damn dog refused to listen. That was normal for mabari warhounds though. They only listened to their masters.

"Barks! No!" chastised the woman. The dog listened to the voice of his mistress and immediately obeyed. The dog seemed friendly enough, but a mabari could very well tear his arm off without any effort on its part. The brunette woman with the light green eyes, shadowed by a lack of sleep, approached him, seeming apologetic as opposed to hostile.

"Forgive Lord Barkington," she said. "He's a very friendly boy, I swear." The dog was panting up at him, his nub of a tail wagging happily as Lord Barkington could barely keep himself sitting down.

"I can see that," Adrian replied, not taking his eye off of Lord Barkington. He might decide to get affectionate again. "So, "Lord Barkington", is it?" The woman's lips quirked up into a small smirk.

"Don't judge me," she said. "I was eight." Adrian still hadn't taken his eyes off of Lord Barkington.

"Sorry, I don't have much experience with dogs." The woman shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not many do. Ferelden is known for its dogs and yet most haven't even _seen_ a mabari. I've seen you with that Warden. Are you the latest recruit?" she asked rather bluntly. Adrian sighed. Did everyone know what he was here for?

"Uh, yeah. I'm Adrian. Amell."

"My name's Elissa. Cousland."

* * *

Elissa was kind enough to show him around the camp. She was awaiting her older brother Fergus' scouting party anyway so she, in her words, "had plenty of time to kill".

Something still nagged at the back of mind.

Where had he heard the name Cousland before? He was sure that he knew it.

"So, where are you from?" Elissa asked him curiously. Adrian remained silent for a few moments. He wasn't sure how he wanted to answer that question. He didn't want to say that he was from the Circle. He still wasn't sure how individual people would react to his being a mage. He'd had a lot less of a problem than he thought, but he couldn't let his guard down. Not yet. But he didn't know what else to say. Kirkwall? He hadn't been there in over a decade and he saw very little of the city. Only the gallows.

"The Circle..." he murmured, bracing himself for a bad reaction from Elissa. One that never came. Elissa was silent for several long, agonizing moments before she assaulted him with question after question about magic with an almost childlike wonder. He was recently out of his apprenticeship and, therefore, couldn't answer all of her questions, but he did his best.

For a moment, the young woman seemed happy and her troubles momentarily forgotten. Perhaps he had made a new friend. Maybe being a Grey warden wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, after all.

They passed by the Circle of Magi's tent where the mages were performing a ritual that would allow them to scout the Wilds through the Fade and visited the quartermaster where Adrian met one of his fellow recruits – a scruffy-looking man named Daveth. The man seemed friendly enough (though Elissa wasn't fond of his flirtatiousness) for an ex-thief. He might like working with Daveth in the future.

From the quartermaster, Adrian bought a suit of light leather armour. He wasn't entirely sure how to put it on, exactly, and Elissa's attempts to explain it to him didn't help much but, well, he'd figure it out later. It wasn't like he was going to strip right here in the middle of the camp anyway. He put the suit in his pack for the time being while Elissa was approached by an elven servant who was doubled over and breathing heavily. The servant had clearly run all the way here.

"Are you... Lady Cousland?" asked the elf between gulps of air. Lady? Was Elissa a noble of some kind?

"I am," she replied coolly. "Why?"

"I apologize, my lady, but Lord Cousland has returned from the Wilds." Elissa's breath hitched in her throat at the news.

"F-fergus is back?" she stammered. "Are you-are you sure?" The elf nodded.

"Yes, my lady." Elissa let out a quivering breath.

"Thank you," she said quietly. The elven servant bowed solemnly and, without another word, ran off from the two humans.

"I'm really not looking forward to this..." Elissa lamented.

"Why?" Adrian asked, shocked. "I thought that Fergus is your brother."

"He is. It's just... I'm not here to bring good news. I… my father is – _was_ the Teyrn of Highever. My father and brother were supposed to come here to aid the king against the darkspawn and I was to rule Highever in their absence. But after Fergus left… an old friend of my father's turned his troops against us. They killed everyone inside the castle, even my four-year-old nephew..." Elissa shook her head. "Fergus needs to be told..."

"That he's the new Teyrn of Highever?" Adrian finished for her. Lady Cousland let out a bark of dark, humourless laughter.

"Yes, the new Teyrn of Highever... anyway, he needs to know. We'll show that scoundrel Howe that can't – _won't_ – get away with this!"

"I'm sorry to hear all that," said Adrian sympathetically. "My condolences." Elissa smiled a little.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Good luck with the whole being a Grey Warden thing." It was Adrian's turn to laugh mirthlessly.

"I'll need it," he told her. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a Warden named Alistair, would you?"

"Hmm... I think I might have. Blond hair, templar shield?" she asked. Adrian shrugged, having never gotten a description of the man.

"Sure."

"Last I saw him; he was running an errand for the revered mother." Elissa pointed her finger up the ramp that was next to the quartermaster. "I think he went up there." Adrian nodded in understanding.

"Alright, thanks. See you around, eh?" He waved Elissa goodbye as she walked away, nice and slow as to put off having to deliver such terrible news to her older brother, her loyal hound at her side. The mage walked in the direction that Elissa pointed out, keeping an eye out for a blond-haired man who carried a templar shield.

He found a man of such a description talking with another man who looked like a mage by his robes and staff. The blond-haired man looked oddly familiar but he couldn't put his finger on why.

"What is it now?" the mage demanded irritably. "Haven't Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

"I simply came here to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage," the blond replied politely, his tone very carefully controlled. His posture more rigid than it should have been. "She desires your presence."

"What her Reverence "desires" is of no concern to me!" the mage suddenly snarled, completely startling Adrian who was shocked by the other mage's hostility. He didn't think that the blond said anything wrong... "I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the king's orders, I might add!" The blond was surprisingly calm in this whole thing, even throwing up a cocky smirk.

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

"I will not be _harassed_ in this manner!" the mage roared, making the blond rolled his brown eyes sardonically.

"Yes," he drawled sarcastically. "I was _harassing_ you by delivering a _message_."

"Your glibness does you no credit..." the mage replied dryly.

"Here I thought we were getting along _so_ _well_. I was even going to name one of my children after you... the grumpy one." Adrian smirked. He was actually impressed with how the blond was handling the situation. If someone talked to _him_ like that, he most likely would have told them to piss off. The other mage groaned and threw his hands in the air.

"Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Out of my way, fool!" The mage pushed past the blond and, eventually, shoved past Adrian too. What an arse...

The blond seemed to finally notice that Adrian was there and approached him.

"You know," he said, that same cocky smirk and sarcastic tone still present. "one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together." Adrian snorted.

"You got that right," he replied sardonically. It seemed that even the end of the world wasn't enough to unify people. The blond smiled for real this time.

"It's like a party: we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about – wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?" Adrian sobered and his face fell, his expression reserved. This guy wouldn't have a problem with that, would he? He did, after all, just have a mage verbally attack him for no reason that Adrian could see.

"I do happen to be a mage," he said in a neutral tone.

"Really? You don't look like a mage," the blond replied, looking genuinely surprised. Adrian supposed he couldn't blame him. The man probably expected him to be wearing robes like all of the other mages here. The man flushed a little, shifting in embarrassment. "Uh... that is... I mean... how interesting." The blond's eyes sparked with understanding and his lips formed an "O" shape.

"Wait, I do know who you are. You're Duncan's new recruit, from the Circle of Magi. I should have recognized you right away, I apologize." Adrian waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's not like we've met before. I take it you're Alistair, then?" Alistair raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Did Duncan mention me?" Adrian nodded. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"Don't worry about it. Duncan only told me to find you. That's it."

"So, it's finally time, then?" Alistair cleared throat and stood business-like with his hands behind his back. "To business then! As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining," he explained.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Adrian." Alistair snapped his fingers.

"_Right_! That was the name. So, I'm curious: have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?" Adrian turned pale at the thought of those monstrous creatures from the trip here.

"Duncan and I ran into a few small groups on our way here. It was..." Adrian shuddered. "horrible." Alistair nodded seriously.

"Agreed. When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another."

"Neither am I. But that's what Grey Wardens do, right?"

"Exactly! Now, since you're here, we should be getting back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started," said Alistair enthusiastically. The two men began making their way back to the main part of the camp where Duncan should be by now.

"What about the other recruits? I was told that there were a couple of them," Adrian protested.

"Daveth and Ser Jory are here in the camp. Have you met them, yet?" Adrian nodded.

"I've met the cutpurse but not the other one," the mage explained.

"Ser Jory is a knight from Redcliffe. He was recruited in Highever, though. I think he competed in the Tourney there about a month ago and won the Grand Melee," said Alistair. "Oh look! There he is!" The blond pointed his finger at a group of three men around a large campfire nearby the king's tent. One of the men was Duncan, the second was that cutpurse Daveth, and the third was a man that Adrian did not recognize. Dressed in chainmail, armed with a greatsword that probably weighed more than he did and his brown hair close-cropped. That must be Jory.

Duncan spotted the two other men and gestured for them to come over.

"You found Alistair, did you?" Adrian nodded. "Good. I'll assume you are ready to begin preparations." Duncan turned to Alistair gave him a glare that made the younger man look as guilty as a child who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair." How did he know about that?

"What can I say?" Alistair began in a futile attempt to defend himself. "The revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army."

"She forced you to sass the mage, did she?" Duncan questioned unconvinced. "We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to anyone any more ammunition against us." Alistair's gaze dropped down to his feet, looking every bit as ashamed of Duncan's disappointment in him as Adrian had felt about Irving's.

Alistair apologized and Duncan moved on to introducing his three new recruits to each other. Adrian was a little nervous about being put on the spot and was glad that Duncan didn't dwell on it. There were important matters to attend to. Like going into the Wilds (Daveth had murmured something that sound like "I knew it"), killing some darkspawn and filling three vials with their blood, one vial for each recruit. The three recruits were not fond of that idea. Not one of them wanted to so much as go near a darkspawn, let alone touch their blood. But apparently it was needed for the Joining. Why, Adrian had no idea, but he had a sneaking suspicion...

The second task was to go to an old ruin that used to be a Grey Warden archive and retrieve some scrolls had been leave behind when the Grey Wardens abandoned the outpost. Were these scrolls the old treaties that Duncan had talked about before? This seemed mainly a task for Alistair, since he was the only one who actually knew where to look for this ruin but may as well kill two birds with one stone.

Adrian really hoped that the scrolls were still there, but he supposed that they would have to cross that bridge when they got there.

"Watch over your charges, Alistair," commanded Duncan. "Return quickly, and safely."

"We will."

"Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return."

With that the four men began their quest for the blood and scrolls, marching toward the gate to the Korcari Wilds. The guard let them pass, having expected them, and into the darkspawn infested forest they went.

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**A/N: As I mentioned before, the non-warden versions of other origins will play a part in this story even though it is still about a single warden. **

**~ Darth Synkka**


	8. Interlude 2: Fergus Cousland

**Author's Note: Here is the second Interlude, which is more of a Meanwhile... sort of chapter. It is purposely short so as to not bore anyone too much. It was actually going to be from Elissa Cousland but she's not actually an established character so I chose Fergus. It works for me anyway because I was always curious about how he might have reacted to finding out about Howe's betrayal.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or the characters.**

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Yet another darkspawn fell to Fergus Cousland's blade. The young lord and his scouting party had fallen afoul of a small band of the monsters, but nothing they couldn't handle. The son of Bryce sighed, lamenting that his little sister wasn't here. She was quite the warrior herself (because of course she was. No daughter of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland's would be a wallflower) and it was rather dull killing all of these darkspawn without her.

Oh well. _Someone_ had rule over Highever while he and his father were here fighting the darkspawn. Fergus frowned.

Father should have been here by now.

Fergus and his troops had, indeed, left Highever without the Teyrn but that was only because Arl Howe's men were delayed. And that was several days ago. If Father was going to be delayed even longer, he would have sent word by now.

The scouting party returned to the fortress, wounded but alive, with their fearless leader reporting to Teyrn Loghain. He was the one who cooked up all of the strategies that had earned them their victories, after all. He exited the Teyrn's tent and spotted a woman there. The woman's hair dark brown, like his own, and her eyes green, like his mother's.

Elissa…?

What was she doing here?! And…with Lord Barkington?

Fergus should have guessed that wherever Elissa went, that hound would follow.

All of the elder Cousland sibling's questions evaporated from his mind and a big smile etched itself onto his face and he embraced his little sister. Fergus pulled away and immediately knew that something was wrong. There were dark circles under his sister's eyes, and she was more subdued than last time he had seen her. That would not do at all! Elissa was usually so full of spunk and energy.

When he asked her what was wrong, a damn seemed to break. His baby sister broke down in tears and told him everything that had transpired since Fergus had departed for Ostagar. Right down to the last gory detail.

And all the blood drained from Fergus Cousland's face.

He was the new Teyrn of Highever.

Because Father was dead. And mother too. And everyone in the castle. Even Oriana and Oren, his precious wife and son, were slain in their beds (what kind of monster would slaughter a child?!).

And Arl Howe (the treacherous snake!) was responsible.

Fergus was utterly paralysed as his sister wrapped up the story. Mother and Elissa had rescued the Cousland family sword from the vault before the Arl's men could get to it. Fergus supposed that he should have been glad about that, at least. According to Elissa, saving that sword had been Mother's wish. Father, Mother and Elissa had all made it to the servant's entrance, but Father had been so badly wounded that he wouldn't have made it. Father's last wish had been that his only daughter escape, that she tell Fergus about what Arl Howe had done, and seek vengeance. And Mother...she had chosen to stay in the castle. To die at Father's side rather than live without him.

Fergus' breath seized in his throat, his eyes burning. What was the last thing he'd said to them? What was the last thing he'd said to his parents? To his wife and son? Fergus couldn't remember all of a sudden.

He pulled his sister into his arms, Elissa readily throwing her arms around her big brother, as the siblings wept for their family. They grieved the loss of their mother and father. Of Oriana and Oren. Of Nan, Aldous, Mother Mallol and Ser Gilmore. Of Dairren and Lady Landra. All gone because of Arl Howe's greed.

"He won't get away with this," Fergus said after a long time, desperately trying to keep his voice from cracking. "Once the Blight is over... we'll make sure that Howe regrets having ever even known us." Oh yes, once all of this was over, he was going to take his troops, march to Highever and take back what was stolen from them. He would bring the Arl to justice. Hopefully with Elissa at his side (she was all he had left now, and Fergus suddenly lost all interest in leaving his baby sister's side for even a moment).

Elissa pulled away from her brother and wiped away her tears, a new light in her eyes.

"You're damn right," she said with determination. "So, would you like to do the honours, or shall I?" Fergus let out a bark of laughter. She was obviously alluding to which one of them would get to slit Howe's throat. Oh, it was tempting. But Elissa was the one who had seen Howe's treachery with her own eyes.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." Elissa seemed to find that acceptable, a light smirk on her face and dark look in her eyes. Fergus doubted that he looked any different.

But first things first...they had a Blight crush.

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**Author's Note: The next chapter will be the Wilds and our first meeting with Flemeth and Morrigan.**

**~ Darth Synkka**


	9. Chapter 6: Tainted Blood

**Author's Note: Sorry this took longer than I thought but I finally updated. i hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

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When they stepped out of the camp, they were attacked by a pack of wolves before they could even take a step. It was almost as if the forest itself knew that there were intruders.

The four men made easy work of the wolves, Daveth especially seeming to enjoy the fight. Jory, on the other hand, kept giving Adrian weird looks and anxious side glances. It seemed that the knight wasn't entirely comfortable with working alongside a mage.

The men marched through the path forward, allowing Alistair to lead them to where they needed to go. The Warden suggested to the recruits that they just worry about getting to the tower. They were certain to run into darkspawn on the way there.

It was clear that there were buildings here once. While overgrown, there was evidence of stone walls having once stood proudly amongst the trees.

The wardens-to-be spotted a wreckage ahead – a wagon turned over, bloody and beaten bodies scattered about like rubbish, and a small, weak voice calling to them. It was a soldier who looked as though he was on death's door, crawling on the ground. The men immediately ran toward him.

"Who... is that?" the dying soldier stammered wearily. "Grey... Wardens...?"

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" quipped Alistair, his brow furrowed in worry.

"My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn!" The soldier explained, a little bit more energy to him. "They came out of the ground... Please, help me! I've got to... return to camp..."

"We need to take him back to camp and get him to a physician," said the mage to his comrades. They couldn't just leave him here, after all.

"If I could just get some bandages... I could get back myself," the soldier cut in. Alistair nodded seriously and put his supply pack on the ground beside him.

"I have bandages in my pack," he said. Alistair bandaged the wounded soldier's injuries to the best of his ability. Adrian bent down and did his best to help with his magic even though he wasn't much of a healer. He closed the worst of the man's wounds to the best of his limited healing ability. The man looked at him with a mix of anxiety and astonishment. His eyes wide as though he had never seen magic at work before.

"I'm not much of a healer," said the mage gently. "But I can do this much."

"I... thank you..."

"Don't mention it." The magic seemed to help ease the soldier's pain as he stood on his own two feet, as wobbly as he was, and expressed his gratitude to the wardens before he limped back to camp. Thankfully, it wasn't far. Real physicians would be able to help him at Ostagar.

"Did you hear?" Jory yelped, his voice suddenly several octaves higher than usual. "An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!"

"Calm down, Ser Jory," replied Alistair reasonably. "We'll be fine if we're careful."

"Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed," the one known as Ser Jory argued fearfully. "How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire _army_ in these forests!" Ser Jory's head whipped around as though searching the forest for monsters that would jump out of the shadows.

"There are darkspawn about," Alistair admitted, speaking slowly. "But we are in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

"How do you know?!" Ser Jory retorted in a voice that was far more fearful than he intended. He caught the curious eyes of Daveth and Adrian and took several calming breaths. "I'm not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back."

Daveth scoffed and gave Adrian a slap on the shoulder.

"Come on, Ser Knight," he said mockingly. "We've got a mage on our side! We'll be fine." Said Mage flushed a little, unsure of whether that should be taken as a compliment or not. He liked to think it was the former.

"I still don't relish the thought of encountering an army," Ser Jory countered. Adrian frowned. Didn't Jory _want_ to be a Warden? He was pretty sure that he had heard the knight mention that he had asked for this.

"Isn't that what Wardens are supposed to do, though?" he said seriously. "Fight armies of darkspawn so others don't have to?" Not to mention the dwarves who were in a perpetual war with the tainted creatures to take back their empire. Ser Jory flushed red and fidgeted under the mage's scrutiny.

"That's… true," he grumbled. Adrian was still confused. Was this guy... just a coward? A coward that wanted all the glory of being a Grey Warden without the hard parts?

The mage suddenly felt this strange tingling sensation at the back of his neck. He was being watched. Perhaps it was the darkspawn? He looked toward the bushes, where, from the shadows, a pair of golden feline eyes stared at him. There was a surprising amount of intelligence in those eyes, their gazes locked for several moments, before the eyes disappeared back into the shadows.

"Know this: All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn," Alistair cut in, his voice still calm and placating. Adrian was snapped from his thoughts, his gaze still drawn to those bushes. Had that been just his imagination? Had he imagined the intelligence in that cat's eyes?

Adrian did not like this forest anymore.

"Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here."

This must have been Duncan's way of keeping them safe while doing this test.

"You see, ser knight?" Daveth mocked. "We might die, but we'll be warned about it first." Adrian was surprised by the amount of derision in the ex-cutpurse's voice. Did Jory insult him somehow? Jory rolled his eyes sarcastically, absolutely _not_ reassured.

But, of course, Alistair was not there to make things easy for them and they couldn't waste time in this forest all day, so the four men marched on. They stopped again as they spotted some flowers with white petals and a blood-red center. Daveth insisted on grabbing them as the kennel master was supposedly offering rewards for whoever brought some of them back. These flowers were supposed to be helpful for dogs poisoned by darkspawn blood.

Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian spotted something moving about in the trees. He did not get a good look at it, but he could have sworn that he saw those eyes again.

They did not get very far before they ran into their first band of darkspawn. A group about half-dozen large standing on top of a hill. That would normally mean a huge disadvantage for the wardens-to-be if it weren't for the fact that they climbed down the hill to attack them directly. Half of the monsters were easily picked off by Daveth's arrows while the rest were killed by the other three men.

After the darkspawn were dead, Alistair took his knife and cut one of the darkspawn, allowing it to bleed until the blood filled one of vials. Alistair closed up the vial, cut up two other darkspawn and filled the last two vials with the black, blighted blood. Adrian shuddered, not wanting to think about the thing that was in those vials.

What exactly were they going to do with that blood?

No, don't think about that.

The wardens pressed on, interrupted by Alistair's call of "Look there!" His three recruits did, and Adrian was left with a cold, empty feeling of horror. Hanging from a tree by their necks was a couple of soldiers; their hands tied behind their backs.

"Poor slobs," Alistair continued. "That just seems so excessive."

You don't say.

Adrian looked at Daveth and Jory who couldn't even bring themselves to look at the gruesome sight. Was this what they were fighting against? Was this what they, as Grey Wardens, had to protect people from?

The men travelled deeper and deeper into the Korcari Wilds, running afoul of a band of darkspawn that had its own troubles with a pack of wolves. The infighting made things quite a bit easier for the men as the wolves and darkspawn killed each other.

Alistair suddenly found himself with an arrow in the shoulder, the three recruits turned to find that several short darkspawn the size of dwarves had stepped out of the shadows.

"Genlocks…" Alistair grunted painfully. Adrian cringed at the wound. He really hoped that darkspawn weren't smart enough to poison their arrows. That wasn't something that he knew how to heal.

The 'spawn began to crowd them, and Adrian blew them all back with a telekinetic blast that sent them flying several feet. Daveth and Jory shook themselves from their stupor and jumped into the action.

Daveth unsheathed his daggers, ready to slice and dice, Jory charged forward with his greatsword and Adrian chanted a hex that would curse the archer with misdirection.

No need to worry about those arrows anymore. Under the influence of the hex, the archer would be lucky to hit the ground with its hat.

The darkspawn – genlock – with the bow seemed to get frustrated that it could no longer hit anything, banged its bow on the ground, tossed it away and unsheathed a black, rusted knife. The piece of metal was jagged and practically dripped with corruption. It made Adrian's stomach turn. Darkspawn were so evil that even inanimate objects became tainted by their touch. It wasn't something that he had noticed the first time he had encountered a darkspawn because he had been so focused on keeping his enchantment going while Duncan took care of killing them.

And these things were everywhere in the Deep Roads.

And they would soon be everywhere on the surface too.

Driven by a sudden spur of determination, Adrian beat the charging monster with his staff (the weapon made him think of Enchanter Neria, who he was now imagining being swallowed up by the inky blackness of the Blight, along with Solona and Anders and his mom back home), and set it ablaze with a cone of flame hotter and more powerful than he'd previously been able to summon.

Daveth and Jory gave the mage a weird look that made him feel a little self-conscious, but a pained groaned from Alistair snapped the three of them back to reality. _Someone_ had to tend to his wounds and Adrian sincerely doubted that any of them were especially competent healers.

The three recruits gingerly approached Alistair, not wanting to harm the man any further. Thankfully, the arrow went all the way through, so pulling it out would be a lot less complicated.

"That arrow wasn't poisoned, was it?" asked Daveth in concern. "Because I don't have any antidote."

"Assuming darkspawn are even smart enough to poison their arrows," Adrian added. Alistair chuckled mirthlessly.

"You'd be surprised," he said.

The three recruits did their best to pull out the arrow out and dress the wound, but it would need treatment from a real physician. And Alistair insisted on finding those scrolls before returning to camp. Good thing the blond-haired Warden came prepared with plenty of healing poultices.

They continued down the path with Alistair's guidance. By the grace of Andraste, the wolves and darkspawn had completely killed each other off by now without even noticing them. But that wasn't the last of the camouflaged creatures. With Alistair out of commission, the recruits were the ones who had to do the majority of the fighting.

It was not fun having these things sneak up on them and attempt to stab them in their backs.

A narrow path was being guarded by a different kind of darkspawn. This one was as tall as a man and carried a staff.

"An emissary!" Alistair cursed. "Let me handle this!" His three charges looked at him like he was crazy. That "emissary" was casting magic and Alistair was injured. What could he do against such a formidable enemy?

And Alistair did something very unexpected - something only templars were capable of. He dispelled the magic of the emissary and drained its mana. Alistair was far enough away that Adrian barely felt the effects, but he was still barely able to crush the instinct to step back, to put as much space between him and a templar as possible.

He was being ridiculous, wasn't he?

They were all Grey Wardens here, right? And Alistair seemed nice enough. He even reminded him a little of Cullen.

Adrian turned to Daveth, who was staring at Alistair with mute astonishment. He had clearly never seen templar abilities at work. It seemed the emissary hadn't either, as it panicked and bolted, the monster's leg suddenly caught in something. The three recruits shook themselves from their stupor and made to go after the monster, only to be stopped by Daveth.

"What?" demanded Ser Jory.

"That thing's stuck in a trap," said Daveth, a serious frown upon his brow. Adrian looked on ahead. He saw no traps but perhaps one of Daveth's talents was seeing what others could not. And the monster certainly seemed caught in a trap. "Let me," the scoundrel continued, unsheathing his bow, notching an arrow and letting it fly. The arrow pierced the emissary's throat, spelling its doom. It fell to the ground with little resistance, its leg still stuck and bent in the most awkward way possible.

Alistair sunk to his knees and clutched his wound, the use of his templar abilities taking a toll on his wounded body. His recruits ran to his side and checked his wound.

Dammit! It reopened. They added a fresh layer of the healing salve and re-bandaged the wound to the best of their limited ability.

"Careful... there are more," Alistair warned between breaths. "All around... this area."

His charges looked around the tall grasses, trees and ruined walls, but saw nothing. Grey Wardens could sense darkspawn, Alistair had told them. He must have seen something that they could not.

"Not to mention the traps," Daveth added. "I didn't think that darkspawn were smart enough to set up traps." Daveth shielded his eyes with his hand. "They're everywhere in the grass ahead."

"Can you dismantle them?" Adrian asked from Alistair's side. Daveth nodded seriously.

"Just keep them off me." Adrian looked down at Alistair. He was wounded and the mage didn't want to leave the poor guy alone.

"Jory, it's up to you," said the mage. Ser Jory nodded slowly, giving his surroundings a wary look. Adrian spoke the enchantment that engulfed Jory's greatsword with flame. The man yelped in a very unmanly way, looking at his weapon like it was possessed. Daveth turned to Adrian and gave him a wolfish grin.

"I didn't know you mages could do that!" he exclaimed. Adrian shrugged and smiled shyly and returned his concentration to the enchantment.

Daveth slowly and carefully moved from leg-trap to let-trap, dismantling each one as Jory guarded his comrade, still not taking his eye off of the flaming blade. Ser Jory didn't have the time to be suspicious for long, however.

They were attacked by camouflaged darkspawn but they were no match for Jory's fighting ability and Adrian's enchantment. With the last trap dismantled, Daveth grinned victoriously while Jory let out a sigh of relief as the flames engulfing his blade dissipated.

Adrian breathed heavily and found it difficult to get back on his feet. Shit. He had seriously over-used his mana and was now feeling very drained.

"Are you all right?" asked Alistair. Adrian was quiet for several moments.

"Yeah. Fine," he said as he forced himself to stand.

Never let a templar know when you're vulnerable. He had learned that the hard way.

Adrian helped Alistair to his feet, making sure to pull him up by his good arm. He looked around and saw absolutely nothing ahead. This part of the forest was devoid of even birds and insects. The only sound to be heard was the wind dancing in the leaves of the trees. He looked up at the overcast sky. It seemed that even the sun itself avoided the darkspawn.

"Be careful," warned Alistair in a hushed voice. "There are more up ahead." The warden frowned in concentration. "I can't… tell where or how many, but I'm sure that it's the last of them for this area."

"Well, I do hope that we're almost there," Ser Jory commented with a shiver. "This forest is freezing!" Adrian shivered too. Now that Jory mentioned it, he was right. It was pretty cold out here in the forest. Ferelden had a cold climate with short, mild summers and long, brutal winters but the lack of sun and the dimming of the light of day into the dark of night certainly didn't help matters. Getting those treaties and returning to Ostagar before nightfall would certainly be preferable.

"It _would_ be nice if we could get back before nightfall," Adrian admitted.

"Then we should get a move on, yeah?" Daveth chimed in. "How far away is this ruin?"

"I recognize this area from the map Duncan gave me," Alistair said. "The ruin should be right around this bend." The three recruits nodded tightly and onward they went… right into the final group of darkspawn. They were gathered right at the entrance to the ruin where their prize awaited them.

This group was different from the rest as the leader was tall as a mountain, wore a horned helmet and carried a huge battleaxe.

"Leave the Alpha to me!" Alistair ordered in a commanding voice that demanded obedience. The recruits worried for their injured guide but had no interest in disobeying him either.

Adrian iced the Alpha's feet to the ground, hoping to at least be of _some_ help before picking off the rest of the group alongside Daveth and Ser Jory. Even with his shield arm out of commission, Alistair was a force to be reckoned with. He didn't move with the same deadly grace and speed as Duncan, but he still had a strength and skill that were unique to templars.

The Alpha didn't stand a chance.

The other darkspawn fell to Jory's blade, Daveth's knives and Adrian's staff. He had used up all of his magic power and only had physical power left to fight with.

There was a rustling of leaves from the forest, so quick that Adrian wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been plagued with the feeling that the were being watched from the moment they entered the forest. And he could have sworn that he saw the soft glow of magic being performed.

"Does anyone else get the feeling that we're being watched?" Adrian finally asked anxiously. Daveth turned pale.

"By what?" he said. "Chasind barbarians? Ahh! What if it's a witch?!" Adrian suppressed an annoyed groan. He hadn't taken Daveth for the superstitious type.

"That's just nonsense," retorted Jory. "There aren't _really_ witches, right?"

"Witch or no," Alistair began. "We need to get those treaties and get back." That was a sentiment that the recruits could agree with.

The men entered the ruin and spotted a chest on the far wall. It seems that that was the only thing that survived the ravages of time and neglect.

"The treaties should be in there!" Alistair exclaimed, his finger pointed at the chest. With an old, worn key in hand, Alistair unlocked the chest only to find it… empty?

"It's empty?" said Alistair confused.

"Well, well, what have we here?" asked a sultry woman's voice, her tone laced with mockery. Adrian turned and was taken aback. He'd seen those eyes before. They'd followed the group all through the woods. Except it was a cat that followed them. Not a (admittedly pretty) woman whose primitive, raggedy clothing left very little to the imagination.

Hmm…

There were legends of witches in the Korcari Wilds who were capable of shape-shifting. They couldn't turn into anything inanimate like a rock or a tree, but animals and even humans were fair game. According to the Chasind, what made the Wilds so dangerous, was that even the squirrels could be a witch in disguise.

But those were just legends, of course.

Or maybe they weren't.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder?" she inquired, coming further into view. Her skin was surprisingly smooth and pale for a forest-dwelling woman, and her dark, but not quite black, hair was held back in a sloppy knot.

She carried with her an air of mystery and wildness.

"A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

None of the men responded.

The woman grew impatient and folded her arms across her chest.

"What day you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

"This whole time, I've had the feeling that we were being watched," Adrian began. "That was you, wasn't it?"

The woman laughed mirthlessly.

"Saw me, did you? And I thought I had covered my tracks so well. 'Tis true, I have watched your progress for some time. "Where do they go" I wondered. "Why are they here?"" the woman explained as she moved around them until she stood on the crumbling wall, above the chest. "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her," Alistair hissed in warning. "She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

The woman laughed derisively. "Ohh… you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" she said, throwing her arms in the air. Alistair frowned.

"Yes, swooping is bad."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is!" exclaimed Daveth fearfully. "She'll turn us into toads!" Adrian groaned and face-palmed.

"Daveth, there is literally no magic that is capable of turning people into toads," he said. Daveth relaxed his posture a little, but didn't take his eyes off the woman for even a moment.

"Witch of the Wilds?" the woman began, a delicate eyebrow raised. "Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" She turned her golden-eyed gaze to Adrian.

"You there, handsome lad. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine." Alistair, Daveth and Jory all stared at the mage with their jaws dropped. Adrian flushed pink. He was confused by her rather sudden flirtatiousness (not that he was complaining of course) and wasn't entirely sure what the best course of action was. Should he go along with it? She might know what happened to the scrolls. Heck, for all they knew, she might have taken them in the first place! Her cooperation would be needed if they wanted to have even a prayer of accomplishing their mission.

"Adrian," he said to her.

"And you may call me Morrigan, if you wish," the woman introduced with her arms folded across her chest. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?"

And pray tell, Morrigan. Why is it here no longer?

Adrian was ready to question her further but Alistair got to it first.

""Here no longer"?" He quoted with a derisive snort. "You stole them, didn't you? You're… some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!"

"Smooth, Alistair," said Adrian, earning him a glare from the Grey Warden.

"How very eloquent," Morrigan replied. "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Very easily, it seems," Alistair deadpanned, a serious look in his eye. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."

"I will not," said Morrigan with a frown. "For 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened."

"If you didn't take them, then who did?" Adrian asked her.

"'Twas my mother, in fact," she replied. The mage raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Her mother? Really?

"Your mother?" he asked aloud. Morrigan snorted and her plump lips quirked up into a smirk.

"Yes, my mother. Did you assume that I spawned from a log?" The strange woman turned away from them and took a few steps to the side.

"A thieving, weird-talking log, perhaps," Alistair murmured under his breath. Morrigan leaned against a wall of stone, facing toward the forest.

"Not all in the Wilds are monsters. Flowers grow, as well as toads," she said cryptically. "If you wish, I will take you to my mother. 'Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you like."

"We _should_ get those treaties, but I dislike this… Morrigan's sudden appearance. It's too convenient," said Alistair in a hushed voice.

"You're right, but what choice do we have?" Adrian replied. "The treaties are gone and Morrigan's mum is the only lead we have as to where they might be." Alistair sighed begrudgingly.

"You're right," the blond admitted. "I don't like it, but you're right." Adrian nodded and turned to the woman.

"Morrigan, we'll take you up on your offer. Please, take us to your mother. It would do us a huge favour," he said politely. Morrigan almost looked surprised at his tone but it could have been his imagination as her expression shifted rather quickly back to cold smugness as Daveth cried out; "She'll put us all in the pot, she will! Just you watch."

Ser Jory rolled his eyes. "If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change," he said.

"Follow me, then, if it pleases you," was all Morrigan said in reply.

The men followed her through the forest to a small, remote hut where a wizened old woman with disheveled silver hair and and a dress that seemed to be made of rags for clothes awaited them.

"Greetings, Mother," said Morrigan in a feelingless tone that Adrian found rather strange for woman addressing her mother (who, frankly, looked more like her grandmother). Did Morrigan and her mother not get along? "I bring before you four Grey Wardens who – "

"I see them, girl," the old woman rather rudely interrupted. She hummed in thought as she looked them up and down. "Much as I expected."

Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us?" said Alistair skeptically.

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide… either way, one's a fool!" said the old woman cryptically. So this was where Morrigan got it from. Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Why can't anyone make sense around here.

"She's a witch, I tell you!" exclaimed Daveth anxiously. "We shouldn't be talking to her!"

"Quiet, Daveth!" Ser Jory chastised. "If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" Hmm… he had a point. And it seemed that Daveth realized that too.

"There is a smart lad," said the old woman in a rather patronizing tone. "Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will." The old woman turned her gaze to Adrian. He fought the urge to shift nervously under the scrutiny of her eyes, the same colour as Morrigan's, but far, far older. There was something weird about this woman. Something… unnatural and… and truly ancient. He could feel the Veil shift weirdly around her.

Just who was Morrigan's mother?

"And what of you?" she said to him. "Do you possess a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as they do?" Believe what? That she was really a Witch of the Wilds? That she was a nutty, and possibly senile, old lady? Jory was right, it was probably best not to make her mad. Adrian settled for a shrug.

"I don't know," he said monotonously. Somehow, the old woman seemed pleased.

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies," she said seriously. "Be always aware… or is it oblivious? I can never remember." Adrian tried not to roll his eyes. "So much about you is uncertain… and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!"

"So this is the dreaded "Witch of the Wilds"?" Alistair whispered in his ear, giggling.

"Witch of the Wilds, eh?" chimed in the old woman. "Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!" The old lady laughed heartily much to Morrigan's chagrin. The daughter looked rather scandalized and embarrassed.

"They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother," said Morrigan, her expression cold and her tone carrying an undertone of anger.

"True," the mother agreed seriously. "They come for their treaties, yes? And before you begin barking," she began as she walked over to the hut, and pulled something out of a chest and approached them again. "Your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these." The mother held out the papers to the Wardens.

"You… oh. You protected them?" said Alistair as he took the papers absent-mindedly.

"And why not?" replied the mother. "Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!"

"And what do you mean by that, pray tell?" Adrian asked.

"Either the threat is more, or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!" The mother cackled, making Adrian and Morrigan groan in unison. "Oh, do not mind me. You got what you came for."

"Time for you to go, then," said Morrigan.

"Do not be ridiculous, girl," chastised the mother. "These are your guests." Morrigan sighed wearily.

"Very well," she conceded. "I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."

And as the sun began to set behind the trees, the wardens followed Morrigan back to the Ostagar ruins.

* * *

**~ Darth Synkka**


	10. Chapter 7: The Joining

**Author's Note: This chapter is kind of short compared to some my other ones but I wanted the Joining to be its own separate thing. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

* * *

Night had completely fallen over the Korcari Wilds as the wardens finally made it back. The journey had been made in complete silence as no one felt like talking after having had such a long day. Especially not with the Joining looming over them once they returned.

"We have arrived, Grey Wardens," said Morrigan matter-of-factly. "'Tis time we parted ways."

"Yeah," replied Adrian, somewhat awkwardly. "Uh, thanks for coming all this way."

"I… you are welcome. I will be leaving now. I wish you luck in your endeavours, Grey Warden." Adrian snorted. He wasn't a Grey Warden yet. And the Joining might make sure that he never became one.

"I'll need it. But thanks." He turned, and after a flash of light, Morrigan was no longer there. All he saw was a raven flying off in the distance.

Adrian laughed. "You have got to teach me that sometime," he said to the empty air. He followed his fellow Wardens into the safety of the camp. The first thing they did was bring the flowers to the kennel master. He was so grateful that he gave them a substantial sum of money as a reward.

Next, they went up to the infirmary to have Alistair's wound properly treated. The physicians weren't overly worried since they used plenty of the health poultice, but they still called Wynne over. Her healing abilities far outweighed Adrian's and she left little more than a scar behind when she was done.

Alistair rolled his shoulder and thanked Wynne for her help. She smiled at him.

"You are welcome, dear boy," she said in a grandmotherly way. "But do be careful in the future."

"Yes, yes," replied Alistair with a dismissive wave of his hand. Wynne turned to Adrian.

"And I congratulate you for your Harrowing. I hear you broke records," she said to him politely. Adrian rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he murmured. Wynne bid them goodbye and it was their turn to take their leave.

The men found Duncan still awaiting them by the bonfire.

"So, you return from the Wilds," Duncan began. "Have you been successful?"

Alistair nodded affirmatively. "We were." He handed the vials and the scrolls to Duncan.

"Good. I've had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you've retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately." None of the recruits could say that they were entirely happy to hear that. Adrian still couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were going to do with that blood. Duncan had compared it to the Harrowing before. Why? Was it because of the danger? Why would it be so dangerous? He doubted that he would be going to the Fade again. So why? Why was it important to get three goals for three recruits?

Maker's balls. What if –

"I'm ready," said Jory, snapping Adrian from his thoughts. "Let's get this done."

"Excellent. You'll need that courage to face what comes next."

"Courage? How much danger are we in?" asked Daveth.

"I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are," replied Duncan grimly. "Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later." Adrian was feeling a little green.

"Can we just get this over-with, please?"

"I agree," muttered Ser Jory. Duncan nodded solemnly.

"Then let us begin," he began. The older man then looked to Alistair. "Alistair, take them to the old temple."

Turns out the old temple was where Adrian had first seen Alistair earlier that day. The walk was in silence, each man trapped in his own anxiety. Ser Jory was pacing nervously as they awaited Duncan.

"The more I hear of this Joining, the less I like it!"

"Are you blubbering _again_?" said Daveth with an annoyed roll of his brown eyes.

"Why all these damned tests?" Ser Jory continued. "Have I not earned my place?"

"Maybe it's tradition," the cutpurse suggested cheekily, his eyes twinkling. "Maybe they're just trying to annoy you."

"I don't like it either," Adrian began quietly. "But we can't change it, so there's no point in whining about it."

"The mage has a point," Daveth chimed in with a sing-song voice.

"I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me… it just doesn't seem fair," Ser Jory complained dismally. Daveth frowned at him.

"Would you have come if they warned you? Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?"

Alistair nodded in approval at Daveth's words.

"Including sacrificing us?!" Jory yelled incredulously.

"I would sacrifice a lot more if I knew it end the Blight," said Daveth, voice low and serious. "You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?"

Ser Jory looked away shamefully. "I…"

"Maybe you'll die," Daveth continued. "Maybe we'll all die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we'll die for sure."

Ser Jory was quiet for several moments.

"I've just never faced a foe that I could engage with my blade," he murmured.

"At last we come to the Joining," Duncan said, his voice strange. He walked over to the table where a lone chalice sat. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation." Duncan picked up the chalice in his hands.

"So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint."

So his suspicions were correct. Wasn't darkspawn blood kind of, you know, poisonous?

Ser Jory turned pale as a ghost and even Daveth looked grossed out.

"We're… going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?!" he exclaimed.

"Eww…" the thief murmured in absolute disgust.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you," Duncan explained. "_This_ is the source of our power and our victory."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint," Alistair chimed in. "We can _sense_ it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon."

"Let's do this," said Adrian, trying to sound a lot braver than he felt.

"We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, and they have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?" Alistair bowed his head and closed his hazel eyes.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us in the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you." Ser Jory gave the chalice in Duncan's hands a wary look.

"Daveth, step forward," said Duncan. He did and the Warden handed him the chalice.

After a moment's hesitation, Daveth drank the contents of the cup. He handed the chalice back to Duncan, and Adrian watched with morbid curiosity to see what would happen to Daveth. It only took a moment or two for Daveth to double over in pain and scream bloody murder.

"Maker's breath!" breathed Ser Jory.

"I am sorry, Daveth," muttered Duncan apologetically.

Daveth choked on his own body's blood and bile, and began to spit up the fluids, both foreign and his own. He bleed from his eyes, his ears, his nose... Everything in his body slowly liquefying as the man could do nothing but scream in agony.

He fell to the ground and twitched and hacked until he stop moving entirely. And that was the end of Daveth. Adrian slapped his hand to his mouth in horror.

All was silent until Duncan called forth Ser Jory who back away in terror. He unsheathes his sword and held it out defensively.

"But… I have a wife. A child! If I had known…"

"There is no turning back," Duncan said low and menacing as he unsheathed his own weapon.

"No! You ask too much. There is no glory in this!" Jory retorted. The knight attempted to fight Duncan and swung his sword at him. The fight barely lasted a moment. Ser Jory was no match for Duncan as he ended up with the knife in his gut.

"I am sorry," said Duncan as he pulled out the dagger and put it back in its sheath. Jory slumped to the ground as his life bled out of his body. Adrian and Alistair exchanged horrified glances.

Good to know it wasn't just him then.

"But the Joining is not yet complete," said the Warden. He handed Adrian the chalice with the black ooze still inside. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good."

Adrian gulped audibly. "Bottom's up," he said, barely able to keep his voice from quivering. He downed the contents of the cup just as he did during his Harrowing.

_ Bring it_, he thought defiantly as Solona's face came into his mind. He would not die. If only for her sake. And Enchanter Neria's.

It took all of his strength to actually swallow the disgusting liquid. His stomach immediately lurched as if it wanted nothing more than to purge the abominable blood from his system. For a moment, nothing happened. He prayed that he would not end up like poor Daveth.

Suddenly, he was hit with the worst pain possible. Even worse than the Harrowing. He felt as though he had been set on fire from the inside. And the fire was spreading to the whole of his body. He tried really hard not to think about about what that odd buzzing sound in his ears was.

And he was in a very different world.

_ The surface of the ground was rocky and dead. And the sky above was swirling and greenish – reminding him oddly of the Fade. Upon a mountain was huge black dragon whose roar was deafening to his ears. _

_ On the ground below, there was a horde of darkspawn of every kind, their numbers as numerous as the fish of the sea. They marched toward a city that Adrian did not recognize and left a trail of fire and ruin in their wake as the dragon roared in might have been approval. _

_ There was suddenly a calm, disembodied voice that sounded very familiar and oddly comforting all around him._

_ "From this moment forth, Adrian Amell, you are a Grey Warden…"_

With a yelp of terror, Adrian opened his eyes. Hovering above him were the faces of Duncan and Alistair. Duncan was smiling at him while Alistair frowned in concern.

"It is finished," said Duncan. "Welcome."

"That was… fun," Adrian murmured with a nervous chuckle. He sat up and with a trembling hand, wiped the sweat from his face. He realized that there was still blood on his lips and he could still taste the vile liquid on his tongue. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. Alistair offered his hand to Adrian and helped him to his feet.

"Two more deaths," lamented the blond. "In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was… horrible. I'm glad at least one of you made it through."

"Yeah…"

"How do you feel?" asked Duncan.

"Fine," Adrian told him quietly. "Sucked more than the Harrowing, though."

"Such is what it takes to be a Grey Warden," Duncan replied matter-of-factly.

"Did you have dreams?" Alistair asked. All the colour drained from Adrian's face. He doubted that what he saw could qualify as a dream. More like the mother of all nightmares. "I had terrible dreams after my Joining."

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do," explained Duncan grimly. "That and many other things can be explained in the months to come."

"Oh! Before I forget," chimed in Alistair. "There is one last part to your Joining." The blond ex-templar dug for something in his pocket and pulled out a pendant with a reddish rock on it. He handed the pendant to Adrian.

"We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us… of those who didn't make it this far," Alistair told him in a mournful tone. The mage held the pendant in his hand carefully.

"Take some time. The battle tomorrow will be taxing, and you should take the time to rest," Duncan suggested. Adrian nodded. That sounded like a good idea. He was exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep.

"Yeah, I could use some sleep," Adrian admitted, rubbing his eyes.

"There is a tent set up for you in the Grey Warden camp. Alistair can show you where it is. Now, if you excuse me, I need to speak with the King." Duncan left to run his errand while Alistair asked Adrian if he wanted something to eat. The mage thought about it. They hadn't eaten much while in the Wilds but, frankly, Adrian was not hungry after what happened.

"I don't think I could hold anything down right now," he said feeling very nauseas. Alistair nodded in understanding.

"I couldn't either after my Joining." The blond then gave him a knowing smirk. "But that will change pretty soon."

Adrian raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing. Alistair showed him to the Grey Warden camp and to his tent which had already been set up. The blond Grey Warden left him alone with his thoughts. He threw down his pack and fell onto his bedroll. His body was exhausted, but he couldn't bring himself to sleep. All he could see was Daveth choking on his own bodily fluids and the look on Jory's face when Duncan ran him through.

It was going to be a very long night.

Adrian tossed and turned all night, occasionally drifting off to only a light sleep. By the time dawn arrived, the redhead was just as exhausted as he was the night before. He got up from the bedroll, changed out of the dirty clothes that he hadn't bothered taking off last night and stepped out of the tent.

The sun was only just beginning to rise as he quietly walked out of the Grey Warden area to walk around the normal camp. He decided to sit on a bench that was near the makeshift Chantry. He watched as the priestesses set up for their early morning service. Some of the Sisters had even begun singing the Chant. He saw the Revered Mother, an elderly shrew of a woman, give him the stank eye.

Adrian pointedly ignored her.

He heard someone take a seat on the bench beside. Adrian was taken aback by the appearance of a young priestess. Probably just a Sister. Probably around the same age as Lily, now that he thought about it.

What happened to Lily, anyway?

"Hello, young man," she greeted with a smile. Adrian looked away, not meeting her eyes.

"Hi..." he said.

"You are the new Warden, yeah? Congratulations." The mage looked down at his feet with a troubled frown.

"I'm not in a congratulatory mood," he murmured guiltily.

"Because the other two young men died?" finished the priestess with an understanding look in her eyes. Adrian turned pale as the events of last night assaulted his brain. He didn't know those two and he hadn't particularly liked Jory, but he didn't want anyone to die. Especially not the way Daveth had.

"Heard about that, did you?" The Sister nodded.

"I did. We performed their last blessings in order to send them off to the Maker," she explained.

"I just... I don't know why I came here. I don't normally attend Chantry services."

There was silence between them as the early morning sun rose higher in the sky and more people began to get up and started their morning routines. There was an air of tension in the air. The next battle against the darkspawn would take place tonight. It would be the deciding battle between man and monster. Adrian knew that this could be anyone's last night on Earth. His included.

"Tell me, Warden, do you believe in the Maker?" she asked him cryptically.

"Of course. Contrary to popular belief, I _am_ Andrastrian. I just don't see the point in prayer and the Chantry if He isn't listening," he explained without hesitation.

"I think he is listening. Just not in a way that we expect. And I think he has a plan for everyone, even if it isn't _our _plan for ourselves," the Sister mused. Adrian pondered her words. Solona had told him something similar once. That the Maker always had a plan and that He lead everyone exactly where they were meant to be.

"Would you like me to say a prayer? There is one I heard once that I really liked," asked the priestess.

"Sure," Adrian shrugged. "Go nuts." The priestess closed her eyes and said a prayer that was surprisingly pretty.

_Our Maker, whose Golden City was defiled,_

_Blessed is your name,_

_Blessed are the righteous,_

_who do your will on Earth as well as in Heaven._

_Bless us this day with your protection,_

_And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us._

_Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil._

_So let it be._

"Maker bless you, Warden," said the Sister with a hand on his shoulder. She got up from the bench and left the mage to his own thoughts. He sighed as his stomach made its lack of food known.

It was time to face his first day as a full-fledged Grey Warden.

* * *

**Author's Note: It took me a while to figure out how to make the prayer and word it. I searched on YouTube for the various prayers in-game but none of them worked for me. So, the one I went with was the Lord's prayer from the Bible but modified for the Dragon Age universe.**

**~ Darth Synkka**


	11. Chapter 8: Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note: Here is the next chapter. All pre-battle and details the battle plans. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

* * *

It was Alistair who came to get him at the makeshift Chantry. Adrian was surprised that the former templar was up so early.

"Did you manage to get any sleep last night?" Alistair asked him worriedly. The mage could feel a headache coming on and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

"Not really," he admitted wearily. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

_Way_ too much.

Alistair nodded in understanding.

"I think we all have. Everyone is… tense, right now."

"Noticed that too, did you? Must be the battle tonight. Should be fine, though. I mean, we've been winning pretty easily so far, yeah?" Adrian mused. He was feeling rather antsy himself, as irrational as it was.

The redhead was surprised to find a rather strange expression in Alistair's face. It made Adrian worry. Was he all right?

"Could you stand to eat? You missed supper last night, after all," he said all of a sudden. Adrian blinked in shock.

"Uh, sure," he murmured vaguely, mostly because there was nothing else to say. He allowed Alistair to lead him to the camp cook who gave them their share of the rations and the two men found themselves a place to sit. Alistair said he wanted to talk in private.

The food was rather dry and salty but Adrian was hungry enough that anything tasted good, no matter how bland. He already missed the tower's cooks. They made excellent food.

"So, what's up, Alistair?" Adrian asked between bites.

"I'll be frank, last night, Duncan spoke to me and said that he wanted me to hold on to the treaties," the ex-templar replied grimly. Adrian's blue eyes bulged in shock.

And those weren't being kept in a lockbox or something?

"Why? Isn't _he_ the Commander?"

"That's what I said," Alistair continued. "Not to mention, I've only been a Grey Warden for about six months now. Until you came along, I was the newbie. It worries me that Duncan is trusting me with something so important."

Adrian hummed sympathetically.

"I also heard him talking to the king last night," Alistair added in hushed voice. Adrian leaned closer in curiosity. "It seems that even he is worried. King Cailan's even been in direct contact with Empress Celene over the last few days. I think he's been asking her for Orlesian reinforcements."

"Are you serious?! I thought the king wanted to do this himself!"

"I thought so too. But it turns out it was mainly Teyrn Loghain who's been fighting the Orlesian reinforcements," Alistair explained.

That made sense.

"I can't blame him. He did fight in the war, right?"

"That's true. But this a Blight. Old grudges need to be put aside to beat the darkspawn," said Alistair.

"I'm sure the Teyrn will come to his senses, eventually."

"He'll have to. We depend on him for our strategies," the blond told him. Adrian did remember the king mentioning that strategies bored him. He rather liked the man but it was probably best to leave the battle plans to the more experienced Teyrn.

All of this made Adrian even more anxious than before. If even King Cailan was nervous about this Blight (if it even was a Blight), then there was definitely a problem.

And then there was the issue of Alistair possibly being a templar. He needed to ask about that. What if Alistair had a problem with him for being a mage? It didn't seem like it, but he still had to know.

"Hey, Alistair, can I ask you a question?" Adrian asked hesitantly.

"Shoot."

"I… I saw what you did back in the Korcari Wilds. With that Emissary. Are you a templar?" Alistair sighed and was quiet for several moments.

"I was wondering when this would come up," he began. "I never got around to taking my vows but, yes, I was a templar before Duncan recruited me." Adrian nodded.

"I thought so. Only templars can do what you did. Though, I thought you needed lyrium for that."

"You actually don't," said Alistair, surprising Adrian. "Lyrium just makes templar talents more effective. At least, that's what I was told. Maybe it doesn't even do that." Alistair shook his head. "All I know is that I've never taken lyrium and my templar abilities work just fine." Adrian frowned in thought. Cullen had mentioned something like that once. That his abilities didn't feel any different after he started taking the lyrium.

"So, is this going to be a problem?" asked Alistair coolly, his face neutral.

Normally, the answer would have been yes. Without a doubt. But Alistair seemed okay, and Duncan did tell him on his way here that being Grey Warden meant letting go of your old grudges, old prejudices and old life.

Easier said than done.

But he could see himself getting along with Alistair. After all, he got along with Cullen.

"I don't exactly have the greatest experience with templars," Adrian began slowly, trying to find the right words. "But we're both Grey Wardens. That hardly matters anymore, does it?" Alistair sighed.

"Good to know you feel that way. Duncan told me that we are all to cooperate and get along. But apparently the mages here didn't get the same memo," Alistair replied. Adrian thought back to yesterday when he first met Alistair. He was being yelled at by a mage.

"Is that what that argument was about?" he asked. "The one from yesterday?"

"You mean with the mage?" Adrian nodded. "Yeah, the Revered Mother needed a message delivered. I'm sure she meant it as an insult, sending _me_ as her messenger, and the mage picked right up on that." He got a brief glimpse at the elderly Mother. She seemed quite the shrew. He probably shouldn't be too surprised that she would do something like that.

They stayed in silence, watching the various soldiers, scouts and labourers go about their business until someone decided to join them.

It was Elissa Cousland accompanied by Lord Barkington (much to Adrian's dismay) and another man. A tall guy with short dark hair, blue-grey eyes and a light stubble on his jaw. Was that Fergus – Elissa's brother?

"Hello Adrian… Alistair," she nodded. "So, you're officially a Warden now?"

"Yup."

"Nice! This is my brother Fergus, by the way. Fergus, this is Adrian and Alistair," Elissa introduced.

"Sorry about your family " Adrian told the man.

"_Howe_ is the one is going to be sorry," said the man – Fergus Cousland. "But thank you."

"So, first day and already participating in a major battle. How does it feel?" asked Elissa with a half-hearted laugh. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up.

"Nerve-wracking, in all honesty," said Adrian casually. "I've never been in a real battle before. It'll be… an experience, that's for sure."

"You're lucky," Elissa sulked. "I don't get to participate."

"Damn right, you don't, Sister!" cried Fergus. His sister sputtered in indignation.

"Don't tell me what to do, Fergus!"

"I'm your brother. It's my job," Fergus retorted. Adrian roared with laughter.

"Oh! Looks like Big Brother put his foot down!" Elissa looked at him with betrayal in her eyes.

"Don't encourage him!" All three men were laughing now.

"Hey, I've got a sister back at the tower and, frankly, I wouldn't let her get involved either," Adrian explained.

"See, Sister, he gets it," said Fergus under the scrutiny of his younger sister's withering glare.

"What about you, Alistair?" Fergus asked him. "Do you have any siblings?" Alistair shifted uncomfortably.

"I… n-no. I'm an only child," he responded slowly. Adrian frowned. Why did he sound like he wasn't sure? That was a rather simple question, no?

"Ah. Well, I should be going," said Fergus. "Got to trail the horde and see how much time we have." Elissa's face fell.

"Okay. Do be careful, Brother," she said worriedly.

"Yes, mum, I will," he replied dismissively. Elissa pouted angrily and gave her brother a light punch to the arm.

"Fine," she said. "I won't worry about you then." Fergus laughed and gave his sister a one-armed hug.

"I'll be back soon." With that Fergus Cousland left to fulfill his duties. Elissa watched him leave with a worried frown.

"He'll be all right," said Adrian gently. "He seems to be a tough guy."

"Yeah…"

The day went by agonizingly slow, making the wait until the battle far more painful than it had to be. Adrian, Alistair and Elissa were getting restless as the sun slowly – too slowly – made its way to its highest peak, and then fell to the west.

Fergus came back some time in the afternoon, tired but alive. They had until at least nightfall before the darkspawn would arrive. The army coming towards them was huge and vastly outnumbered them.

Their only hope was that Teyrn Loghain could outmaneuver them.

No one had much of an appetite but they would need all their strength. So they forced themselves to eat.

As the sun began to go down, Adrian and Alistair returned to the Grey Warden camp to prepare. In his tent, Adrian tackled the task of figuring out how to put on the studded leather armour.

He slowly figured out how to do it, though he had a feeling that it was taking him an embarrassing amount of time. The gloves and boots were much easier. He set up his basic supplies in his pack, put his dagger on his hip and grabbed Enchanter Neria's staff.

He walked out of the tent to find Duncan waiting for him.

"Is everything all right, Duncan?" he asked.

"Yes," the man replied. "But I would like you to accompany me to a meeting with the King." Adrian raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

Umm… why? He was just the new guy. Why would Duncan want _him_ instead of a senior Warden?

"Uh… okay," he murmured. He wasn't about to refuse Duncan's wishes.

"Good. Now, follow me." Adrian did as he was told and followed Duncan to what seemed to be a makeshift war room. He could hear King Cailan's chastising voice all the way from here.

"Loghain, my decision is final," he said. "I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault."

Duncan and Adrian approached the "war room" where several people stood around a long wooden table. There was King Cailan, an older man with dark, grey-streaked hair worn with two braids on each side of his grim face, the Revered Mother and an older bald mage in green robes. Was that Uldred?

So that meant that the other man standing beside the king must be Teyrn Loghain.

"You risk too much, Cailan!" retorted the man, Loghain, in a scolding tone. Adrian was surprised by Loghain's lack of respect for the monarch. Cailan didn't seem to be bothered by that though. "The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines."

"You risk too much, Cailan!" retorted the man, Loghain, in a scolding tone. Adrian was surprised by Loghain's lack of respect for the monarch. Cailan didn't seem to be bothered by that though. "The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines." The king folded his arms and lifted his chin.

"If that's the case," he said calmly. "perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all." Anger flashed briefly across the Teyrn's face before he pinched the bridge of his hooked nose.

"I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves!" he told him through grit teeth. King Cailan shook his head.

"It's not a "fool notion"." he argued. "Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past…" His Majesty narrowed his blue eyes at the Teyrn. "and you will remember who is king."

"How fortunate that Maric did not love to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!" Teyrn Loghain lamented. All was quiet for several moments. Adrian held his breath as King Cailan's expression defiant in the face of the Teyrn's insults. It was hard to pick a side in this argument. Adrian fully understood why the Teyrn had no interest in allowing any aide from Orlais. He did fight them, after all, but the king had a point too. A Blight was a much bigger issue than territorial disputes and old grudges.

"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they?" The king turned to Duncan as he saw them approach, a serious look on his face. "Duncan, "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?" Duncan nodded.

"They are, your Majesty," he replied. The king the looked to Adrian and raised an eyebrow.

"And this is the young mage that I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order."

Adrian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh yeah. Thank you, your Majesty."

"You've earned it," the king said with a winning smile. "Lucky you joined the ranks when you did. Every Grey Warden is needed now more than ever." Teyrn Loghain groaned from beside King Cailan.

"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan," he said. "We must attend to reality." King Cailan rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Speak your strategy." He put his hands on the table and looked at the papers on it. ""The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…"

"You will alert the "You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signalling my men to charge from cover," the Teyrn explained slowly, as though speaking to a small child.

"To flank the darkspawn, I remember." King Cailan pointed at a drawing of a tower on the war plans. "This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? How Who shall light this beacon?"

"I have a few men stationed there," Teyrn Loghain said. "It's not a dangerous task, but it _is_ vital." The king nodded tightly.

"Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it's done." Adrian blinked a few times as he realized that the king was talking about him.

"Wait, _me_?! Are-are you sure, your Majesty?" King Cailan laughed.

"Of course, I am! It's a vital task, after all. What better way to show the Wardens what you're made of?" Adrian flushed a little. A part of him was a little suspicious that he was just being ask to do this so the new guy would be kept out of the way.

"You rely on these Grey Wardens too much," the Teyrn chastised. "Is that truly wise?"

"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain!" King Cailan finally exploded. "Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they're from."

"Your Majesty," Duncan interrupted. "You should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing." Teyrn Loghain frowned in confusion.

"There haven't been any sightings of any dragons in the Wilds," he said.

"Um, that's a good thing, right?" Adrian chimed in nervously.

"Well, yes. But we have no way of knowing that for sure. That's what you Wardens are here for, no?" replied the king.

"Of course, your Majesty."

"Your Majesty," interrupted Uldred. "the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. "The Circle of Magi – "

"We will not be trusting any lives to your spells, mage!" snarled the Revered Mother. And there it is. "Save them for the darkspawn!" Uldred barred his teeth as though to argue with her further. Even Adrian's mood soured at the damned woman. Uldred ultimately decided against replying and remained silent.

"Enough!" commanded the Teyrn. "This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon." King Cailan smiled approvingly.

"Thank you, Loghain. I can't wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!" The king got that dreamy look in his eyes again as the Teyrn turned and began to walk away.

"Yes, Cailan," he said in a tone that Adrian didn't like. There was something… sinister about his voice at that moment.

No, it must have been his imagination.

"A glorious moment for us all."

Duncan put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come," he said. "We should relay the plan to Alistair. We don't have much time." Adrian nodded wordlessly as they returned to the main camp.

The bonfire had been relit and Duncan told him to stay there as he went to find Alistair. The mage wasn't certain why he was getting such weird vibes from Teyrn Loghain. Maybe he was just crazy. Or maybe he was just overall worried about the battle and feeling paranoid about everything.

Yes, that must be it.

Duncan returned with Alistair in tow, who was looking rather confused. Adrian had a feeling that Alistair would not be impressed about being in charge of lighting the signal fire instead of fighting the darkspawn.

"You heard the plan," Duncan began. "You and Alistair "You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit."

"What?" exclaimed Alistair in shock. "I won't be in the battle?"

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge," Duncan explained to him.

"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?" said the blond with a slight undertone of resentment. Adrian frowned. A small part of him was actually glad to be given a side job. But the other part felt just as insulted as Alistair looked.

"I'm with Alistair on this one," Adrian chimed in. "We might be new but we can still the battle."

"That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes that Grey Wardens ensure that the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there," said the grizzled old Warden. "We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn… exciting or no." Alistair was silent for several moments. He seemed to be pondering what Duncan was saying.

"I get it, I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no," Alistair finally said. Adrian suddenly got the very disturbing image of Alistair in pink, frilly dress and dancing in front of the darkspawn horde.

"That… might be a good distraction," said Adrian with a shrug. Alistair barked out in laughter.

"Sure,

"Sure, we can kill them while they roll around laughing!" Adrian laughed too.

Duncan sighed in a way that said; _we're doomed. _

"The tower's on the other side of the gorge from the king's camp," the old man then looked to Adrian. "The way we came when we arrived." Duncan explained to them the rest of the plan. They were to cross the gorge, climb the tower to the top, and overlook the valley.

Sounds easy enough.

They were to light the signal fire when the army was ready. He had no idea what the signal would like so he really hoped that someone would be able to tell him when to light the signal.

"The battle is about to begin," said Duncan seriously. "Once I leave, move quickly. You'll have less than an hour." Less than an hour to do such a vital task? No pressure. Nope, none what-so-ever.

"It is time that I join the others," Duncan continued. "From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title."

"Duncan… may the Maker watch over you," said Alistair quietly.

"May He watch over us all." With that, Duncan left the two rookie Wardens to their task.

The two men began the trek to the tower to complete their part of the battle.

"Hey Alistair, do you know what the signal is?" Adrian asked.

"I do," he replied. Adrian breathed a sigh of relief.

The duo walked to the gorge and watched as the army settled into their formation, ready to take on the darkspawn horde once again.

* * *

**Author's Note: the next chapter will be the Battle of Ostagar and may take me a while to write because it will be everything from the cinematic to Cailan's death**

**P.S. I made a huge amount of edits. Mainly to typos that I only noticed after posting but I had to add something I left out at the time but figured important now. Alistair talking being a templar. This is supposed to be a slow, the characters getting to know each other sort of chapter anyway. Until next time.**

**~ Darth Synkka**


	12. Chapter 9: Long Live the King

**Author's Note: I know it's going to feel a little weird at the end because I switch points of view but I felt that it was important to include Duncan and Cailan's deaths. I also named this chapter based on this betrayal. I used the line spoken by Scar to Mufasa in _The Lion King _just before he throws his brother off the cliff and into the gorge. I figured it was appropriate. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

* * *

It began to rain as Adrian and Alistair waited on top of the bridge, overlooking the gorge below. Thunder clapped overhead as the heavy downpour soaked the Wardens to the bone. They were on high enough ground to have a very lovely view of the oncoming horde of monsters. All he could see of them was a wave of fire from the torches the darkspawn carried. They seemed to engulf the entire forest.

The air was thick with tension and fear as the darkspawn began their charge.

Adrian couldn't hear much over the wind and rain but King Cailan's voice rang through the air as he called for the archers to fire. They faithfully obeyed and rained flaming arrows upon the horde. Most hit their mark.

"Hounds!" The dogs were released and charged at the monsters. And finally, with a cry of "For Ferelden!" the soldiers charged at the darkspawn.

The battle has officially begun.

The men on the bridge pushed past Adrian in their haste to man the ballistas. "We need to get to the Tower of Ishal!" cried Alistair. Adrian nodded as the two men rushed to get off the bridge. They were far too exposed there and the darkspawn thought to bring their own siege weapons. They had to dodge massive flaming rocks, and had to duck and roll as one of the rocks took out a ballista (and only just missed them).

The two men finally managed to get across the bridge safely and climb the ramp to get up to the Tower of Ishal. As they approached the tower, two guards, one armed with a crossbow and the other with a sword and shield, ran toward them calling for help.

"You… you're Grey Wardens, aren't you?!" one of them, the crossbow man, began. "The tower… it's been taken!" Adrian and Alistair exchanged alarmed looks. What did he mean "taken"?

"What are you talking about, man?" Alistair demanded. "Taken how?" the guard looked back toward the tower.

"The darkspawn came up through the tower chambers!" he explained. "They're everywhere! Most of our men are dead!"

"Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!" said Alistair sternly. Adrian and the two guards nodded.

At least things were much more interesting now.

The road from this ramp to the tower entrance was filled with darkspawn resistance. The passed the pointed wooden gates, and found that the darkspawn infected the grounds like a virus. Some of the men were still alive. Most of them were cut down before they could save them.

They killed the 'spawn and saved what soldiers they could as they trekked toward the big wooden door to the inside of the tower. What few men they could save were asked to stay outside and guard the tower.

Adrian felt a little bad about asking them to stay out here in this awful weather, but it had to be done. They entered the tower, the mage thankful to be out of the rain. He was dripping wet and this tower had an ominous feel to it.

He had a bad feeling about this.

They entered the main chamber of the first floor to find it barricaded and on fire. Arrows flew at their faces and narrowly missed them. The four men ducked under the barricades and formulated a plan. There was only one way through the flaming barricades; and opening blocked by a tripwire. A trap. It would be rather easy to step over the wire without disturbing the trap. But that would leave them totally exposed.

It was up to Adrian and the crossbow man to take them out from afar. The mage used his spells to kill them (he actively avoided the use of lightning – just a hunch but he had a feeling that using lightning while wet would be rather hazardous to his health). The ones he didn't kill got close enough for the crossbow man to kill them with a bolt to the throat.

Once again, all was silent except for the roar of the flames. The four men exchanged apprehensive glances and gingerly stepped over the poorly concealed tripwire. They walked around the barricades and made it to the hallway, where there were many closed doors. Which one to go through?

The four men agreed to go through the first door. The two guards informed the Grey Wardens that the tower infested with darkspawn.

Adrian and Alistair both agreed that they may as well empty the tower of darkspawn while they were at it.

The two warriors opened the first door, swords at the ready, while the mage and crossbow man stayed behind, tense. The crossbow man already had a bolt notched in the crossbow while Adrian had a tight grip on Enchanter Neria's staff.

The large wooden door opened with a loud – too loud – squeak. The group was attacked almost immediately by a small band of darkspawn, hiding in the room. The men made rather easy work of the monsters as there were no archers in the group. The monsters fell easily to the might of the men and they moved on to the next room.

There was only one monster here and it didn't stand a chance. Adrian cast ice from his hand to freeze the darkspawn's feet to the floor, leaving it at the mercy of Alistair's sword. He lopped off the monster's head; neck spraying black ooze, head rolling away into a large hole in the floor and body falling to the floor. The men looked around. The room was small with little of significance other than the huge hole in the floor, the stone and dirt torn up and left scattered. The mage gingerly walked over to the dark hole and found that it lead to an underground tunnel.

"This must be how the darkspawn got in here…" he mused, speaking more to himself than the others.

"Think there's any way to close it off?" the warrior guard asked anxiously. Alistair shook his head.

"Even if we could, we wouldn't have the time," he said seriously. "We have to get to the top floor so we can see Teyrn Loghain's signal." The three other men nodded and moved on to the next room. This room was even smaller than the last, decorated with several weapons' racks and contained the stairwell to the second floor.

The men dispatched the darkspawn infecting the room and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair whispered to his comrade. "What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!" Adrian felt as shaken as Alistair sounded but he casually raised an eyebrow anyway.

"You could try telling them they're in the wrong place," he suggested with a shrug of his shoulder. He really hoped that no one could tell how nervous he was. And this was supposed to be the _easy job_?! Alistair barked out in laughter.

"Right. Because clearly this is all just a misunderstanding. We'll laugh about this later." The blond's face turned serious again. His voice hushed and urgent. "At any rate, we need to hurry! We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time! Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal!" Adrian nodded slowly. He still wasn't sure of the Teyrn. The guy had given him some seriously bad vibes. He decided against telling Alistair what he was thinking. For all he knew, he was just being paranoid.

The group opened the door to the second floor and found it surprisingly empty. There wasn't a sound other than the roar of the large fire in the center of the entrance. That probably shouldn't be there. The darkspawn must have set a bunch of stuff on fire. Other than that fire, there was no light in the chamber. Through the windows, Adrian could see nothing other than the rain banging on the glass and the occasional flash of lightning, lighting up the dim tower for only a brief moment.

They came upon two corridors with two separate doors. The door to their right was a storage room according to the guards. They decided to enter it and refill their supplies. The crossbow man especially needed more bolts for his weapon. The men emptied the crates and chests of anything they would need and moved on. The door to the left lead back to the main area but they would be able to reach a ballista if there were darkspawn ahead. That sounded like a good idea.

It was a bit of a long walk for a short drink of water, but it was worth it. There were, indeed, many darkspawn ahead of them and a ballista (two of them even) was incredibly useful.

Adrian and Alistair both manned one ballista with each of the guards instructing them in how to use it and helping them in reloading the machine.

Adrian found himself really enjoying the use of the siege weapon as a single bolt of the ballista was enough to kill several darkspawn at once. With the creatures dead, they walked to the end of the hall, where the door that separated them from the stairwell to the next floor awaited them.

There were a few of the 'spawn in here, but they went down relatively easily. A simple misdirection hex took care of the archer, leaving the group free to deal with the rest. Adrian blocked a blow from a sword with his staff and channeled ice through his hand to freeze the blighted creature.

The didn't notice the other creature behind him until it fell dead from a bolt in the throat. He gave the crossbow man a thumbs up in thanks for saving his life. The crossbow man gave him a tight nod in acknowledgement as Alistair and the other guard took care of the rest.

There was clanging sounds all over the room as arrows hit the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling, but not one came close to being a danger to them. Adrian smirked. His misdirection hex was still in effect, it seemed. The crossbow man loaded another bolt in his crossbow, aimed his weapon and sent a bolt into the skull of the creature. It fell the ground dead.

The men took a moment to catch their breath, but only a moment. They had wasted too much time already. For all they knew, they might have missed Teyrn Loghain's signal by now.

They climbed the stairs to the next floor and they were met with the disgusting sight of bloated flesh everywhere. They all covered their noses from the smell.

Around the fleshy piles, there were odd structures; pointy and hazardous. Most likely made with spears and swords from the armoury. Who knew darkspawn could actually _build things_, as primitive as it was?

"The Teyrn better be ready to charge as soon as we light the signal," Alistair said. "The king is depending on us!"

True enough. He put aside the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that something was horribly wrong for the time being.

They walked under the stone archway and found more darkspawn infecting this room. They emptied the room of the monsters. There was a foul stench in the air from the corrupted creatures and the fleshy… grossness they left behind.

Getting rid of these things was his job now. And he would do it to keep Solona and Enchanter Neria safe.

They opened the next door apprehensively and, lo and behold! More darkspawn.

It just never ends, does it?

Through the horde of darkspawn, Adrian spotted many cages with living Mabari warhounds still inside. This must be the tower kennels.

"Pull that lever!" cried one of the tower guards. "It'll release the hounds!" The Grey Wardens nodded. There were way too many darkspawn in here. Getting a little extra help might be a smart idea.

Adrian released a fireball, killing a few of the creatures and drawing the rest to him while Alistair tip toed over to the kennels and pulled the lever. The dogs growled menacingly and barked in might have been a doggie battle-cry before charging at the monsters. If there was anything that Adrian learned from Lord Barkington, it was that he didn't particularly like dogs. But he was grateful to see the pack of hounds, mauling the darkspawn to death. There was only one left to deal with – the alpha. And that would be much easier with a four-man group.

The alpha was a genlock, short like a dwarf but two men wide, and intimidating with his horned helmet and battleaxe bigger than the monster was, but they attacked anyway. The four men decided to circle the alpha, looking for an opening. The alpha charged them first, swinging his axe right into Alistair's shield. The templar shield, despite being made to block magical attacks and not physical blows, did its job, though Alistair was send tumbling to the ground. Adrian cringed at the sound of metal scraping against metal. That shield would always bear the scar of the attack.

Adrian froze the alpha's feet with a spell channeled through his staff while the other warrior snuck up behind the monster and ran it through with his sword. The darkspawn looked surprised for a moment as its blood leaked from the wound. The warrior yanked his sword from the darkspawn's middle as it slumped to the ground with little more than a gurgle.

Once the monster stopped moving, Adrian approached the fallen Alistair and helped him to his feet.

"You all right?" he asked. Alistair nodded.

"Yes. My shield took most of the damage," he said, raising his beaten shield, still attached to his left arm. Adrian still had a feeling that the blond would be feeling that in the morning, though.

They continued through the narrow corridor, completely ignoring each closed door on the way. They had wasted enough time as it was. What if the Teyrn had already given the signal by now?

The hounds had decided to stay behind and lick their wounds as the men made their way to the next stairway. A small group of darkspawn awaited them next to the stairs, tucked away in a corner behind a statue. This room was filled, just like all the others, with those odd (and disgusting) piles of flesh.

This group was easy to dispatch as the men made easy work of them and climbed up to the next floor. The men climbed and climbed, fought and fought in floor after floor until they reached the very top of the tower. This one had open air, with only a small roof held up by tall pillars protecting the signal fire from the heavy rain and other elements. They stopped in their tracks as they realized that the signal fire was being guard a large, lumbering creature with massive horns on it head and huge teeth in its mouth.

The creature was busy eating… something. Whether human or darkspawn, Adrian no idea and he didn't _want_ to know.

What the void was that thing?!

"Oh, balls," cursed Alistair, his face as white as a sheet. "An ogre…"

"There's… four of us and only… one of him, right?" panted the guard with the sword nervously. "Shouldn't be too difficult." Maybe at full-strength, but by now, they were beaten, bloody and exhausted. None of them had much strength left and Adrian was feeling the strain of a lack of mana.

The ogre (or whatever that thing was) seemed to have noticed them. It stopped its eating, wiped the blood from its face and roared a deafening roar at them. The ogre charged at them, attempting to gore them with its horns like some sort of bull. The creature was surprisingly fast but the men were faster and dove out of the way.

The crossbow man notched a bolt in his weapon and aimed for the monster's eye. Alas, the bolt was too short to get into the ogre's brain but it roared in a mixture of pain and anger as it pulled the bolt, eye and all, out of its head.

Well, at least there was a blind spot now.

Alistair and the warrior attempted to get in close but the ogre waved its arms wildly. The two men just barely managed to avoid getting a backhand from the creature. They needed to distract it somehow.

Hmm…

Adrian conjured a rock in the shape of a fist in his hand and used his mana to send it flying at the ogre's head. The stone hit him dead on the temple, the monster crying out in surprise. It turned its head to see who had hit him and spotted the red-haired mage who had sent a fireball hurtling toward its face.

The flames did little to actually hurt the monster, but Adrian's goal was accomplished. He had the ogre's full, undivided attention. It was all up to Alistair and the tower guard now. The mage cast spell after spell, mostly small spells to conserve mana, as the monster lumbered towards him. The monster suddenly stopped and roared as it tumbled to the ground.

Alistair and the guard stood behind it, their blood-soaked swords raised and a huge slice on each of the ogre's knees. Adrian really hoped that it wouldn't be able to get up after that. From its belly, the ogre narrowed its one black eye at the mage, as if it knew that it had been baited into a trap. Before anyone had the time to react, the ogre took a swipe at him with its arm. Adrian attempted to block with his staff but it was no shield. The force of the attack broke Enchanter Neria's staff in two and sent Adrian flying into a pillar.

He felt something break inside of him as he struggled to breathe. The crash had knocked the wind from his lungs, as the mage lay sprawled and stunned on the floor. Through his blurred vision, he saw the ogre attack Alistair, who blocked the attack with his shield but ended up with a broken shield arm.

The ogre got back up to its feet, picked up the other warrior in its hand and slammed him against the floor until the man was just meat and blood.

The crossbow man did his damnedest to try and take the ogre down with his crossbow but the bolts were no match for the massive monster. At the sight, Adrian pushed himself to his knees. At the back of his mind, he was aware of a sharp pain in his torso but the urgency of the situation numbed it.

In his hand, he charged a lightning spell, and poured all of his remaining power into it.

Let's finish this.

He released the electricity from his hands, the power making a cone of lightning that could be seen all the way from the bottom of the gorge. The ogre spasmed and convulsed, its body completely unable to move. Adrian didn't stop no matter how draining it was. The ogre eventually slumped to the ground, its muscles still twitching, but dead. It had to be. The monster was sizzling and the tower smelt of cooked darkspawn. It was… not a good smell. But it was over.

The mage's body trembled as he collapsed, having no more energy left to even remain on his hands and knees.

And he suddenly felt _all of it_. He felt all of the wounds he had accumulated since the battle of Ostagar began, especially the one the ogre had given him when it sent him flying like a rag doll.

He felt himself being turned over (his body protested every movement, including his attempts to breathe) and he was poked in the ribs. He cried out at the sharp, unexpected pain that shot from his ribs to everywhere else in his body.

"That's definitely broken…" said the crossbow man. "Well done, Warden. You really saved our hides."

Warden... Adrian found that he really liked being called that.

"No… problem," he replied with a small, cheeky smile. The crossbow man helped him sit up, though it caused a lot of pain. Now that they had a minute to slow down, they all took a swig of some healing potions. It didn't really heal his ribs, but it did help numb the pain enough for him to stand, though supported. Adrian decided to lean against a pillar while the crossbow man bound Alistair's arm in a makeshift splint.

Adrian looked around the room and spotted the pieces of Enchanter Neria's staff. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. How was he supposed to tell her that he had broken the staff she had so graciously given him? Her words to him rang clear in his mind as his stomach twisted with guilt.

_Take it with you, and I'll feel like a part of me is keeping you safe out there. _

Maker's balls.

He then spotted the broken body of the soldier that had been killed by the ogre. He wished that he could have saved him too. The crossbow man approached his dead comrade and gently closed his eyes.

"Once the battle is over, you'll get a proper pyre," he promised. He then turned to the two injured Grey Wardens. "The beacon is over here for whenever you're ready." The crossbow man pointed to a massive pile of wood placed in the shape of a teepee. Alistair nodded.

"We've surely missed the signal by now," he said. "Let's light it quickly before it's too late!" The crossbow man raised an eyebrow at the Grey Warden.

"With what?" he asked.

"I can do that," chimed in Adrian. He was out of mana, but he could manage starting a simple fire. He pushed himself off the pillar and walked stiffly to the firewood. His movements were slow but that potion helped him out a little.

That bad feeling returned with a vengeance, twisting his stomach into knots. But he pushed it aside.

Adrian used the very last of his reserves to light the signal fire. He could only manage a very small flame but it was enough. The wood for the signal fire went up in flames and the three men allowed themselves to relax.

Adrian was hoping to be able to join the battle but right now, all he wanted was to take a very long nap. He wrapped his arm around his torso, and made his way over to the half-wall that acted as a railing and leaned against it.

He tried taking deep breaths but his broken ribs made that a struggle. As he focused on trying to breathe through the pain until the end of the battle, he noticed something that made his heart fall into his stomach with absolute horror.

Teyrn Loghain's men were marching thunderously _away_ from the fighting.

Maker's FUCKING balls!

That wasn't part of the plan!

"Alistair… we've got a problem…" he said looking over his shoulder at his two companions. "The Teyrn's men are leaving!" Alistair frowned.

"What are you talking about, man?! What do you mean leaving?!" he demanded.

"I mean, he's walking _away_ from the battle instead of _towards_ it like he's supposed to!" Adrian explained in a panicky voice. "If you don't believe me, look!" Alistair and the crossbow man exchanged panicked looks, and rushed over to the edge of the tower.

Alistair's hazel orbs bulged out of his head as he saw what Adrian had.

"No…"

"But… what about the king?" asked the crossbow man tentatively. Adrian shook his head.

The king was doomed.

King Cailan had to be warned. And Duncan too.

Adrian tried to turn but his broken ribs protested painfully. He clutched his side tighter in hopes of easing the pain, but it was a futile effort.

The crossbow man put a hand on his chest.

"Don't," he ordered.

"But… they think help is coming… they need… to know," he said through grit teeth. He was so, so tired.

"Look at us!" retorted the crossbow man. "We're in no shape to go anywhere." Adrian looked away. He knew the man was right. He could barely breathe as it was and Alistair only had use of one arm with his shield irreparably damaged. He doubted that any of them could so much as swat a fly.

All they could do was watch helplessly as the king's army was felled and the Teyrn's men marched further and further away.

Then, the worst possible thing that could happen at the worst possible time happened. Darkspawn poured out of the trapdoor and fell upon them like a plague of locusts.

The crossbow man was the first to go. He did his best to beat back the horde but his crossbow had one massively fatal flaw; it was a slow, cumbersome weapon that took forever to load.

The man's head came clean off at the hands of a darkspawn sword.

And then they fell upon the injured Wardens.

White hot pain exploded in Adrian's middle as he was run through and he collapsed to the ground. His vision blurred and darkened as he distantly thought about Solona and Enchanter Neria. They would never know, would they?

That he was going to die here.

He would do anything to see them one last time. To say sorry to them. And most of all, he wanted to say sorry to First Enchanter Irving. He could have trusted the First Enchanter's judgement… but he didn't. And now, their last parting would always be on bad terms.

Through his dimming vision, he could have sworn that he saw Alistair throw himself between him and the darkspawn to try and defend his comrade.

It might just be the blood loss talking, but he found it extraordinarily funny that a templar was defending a Circle mage. Supposedly sworn enemies and yet his best friend had betrayed him, and a templar was trying to save him.

The Maker had a cruel sense of humour.

Alistair fell and a large metal boot came toward his face.

And Adrian Amell knew no more.

* * *

_Meanwhile on the battlefield…_

King Cailan fought valiantly against the darkspawn with the mighty Duncan at his side. They were caked in enough blood to fill many tubs, and more and more of their men fell to the darkspawn with every passing second.

Where was Loghain? Shouldn't he have sent his men in by now?

When King Cailan saw that the signal fire had been lit, he was filled with hope and energy. Loghain's men would charge and they would win yet another glorious battle. Maybe even defeat the Blight once and for all before it even had a chance to start. Wouldn't that be glorious?

But with every passing moment that Loghain's men did not come, King Cailan began to worry more and more. His strength was slowly beginning to fail him, his movements sluggish and his sword feeling heavy. It was getting difficult to swing.

King Cailan didn't notice the ogre until it knocked Duncan to the side, swatting him like an insect, and before he could react, the ogre grabbed him by the middle in its massive hand. King Cailan struggled uselessly as the monster roared deafeningly in his face and crushed him like a bug.

Duncan watched helplessly as the ogre tossed away the dead king like a child a would a broken doll.

_How could this have gone so badly?_ Duncan wondered mournfully. They had a plan. They were to act as a decoy while his recruits would light the signal fire and Teyrn Loghain would attack from the sides with a fresh army.

Was it his recruits? Did they fail in their task?

He watched as more and more of the army fell, and some dropped their swords and ran for their lives at the sight of their king dead.

The Commander of the Grey pushed himself to his feet and did the only thing he could. He avenged the death of the king by the killing the ogre. He launched himself at the monster, his sword and dagger embedded in its chest. He pulled the dagger out and stabbed it in again. He twisted the weapon and did the same with his sword. He then repeated the action with his dagger. With a pained groan, the ogre fell and the king was avenged.

Duncan cried out through grit teeth as his injuries caught up with him. He looked over at the body of the dead king and crawled over to him.

He cried out his guilt at failing to protect the king.

Where was Loghain?

Duncan looked up at the Tower of Ishal and saw the signal fire blazing away. He frowned. So this wasn't a failure on the part of his recruits, after all. This was a betrayal.

An alpha wielding a massive battleaxe charged toward the helpless Warden.

It was up to his recruits now, safe in the Tower of Ishal.

The alpha swung its axe and Warden-Commander Duncan was dead.

* * *

**Author's Note: I might write an interlude about Loghain and what was going on in his mind in this moment. Or Ser Cauthrien. That might be interesting. Let me know what you guys think.**

**~ Darth Synkka**


	13. Interlude 3: Ser Cauthrien

**Author's Note: So, I settled on Ser Cauthrien for this interlude. She was easier to work with than Loghain. I'll do a Loghain interlude eventually but using Ser Cauthrien felt like the better choice right now. I really hope that I got her character right. Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or its characters**

* * *

Teyrn Loghain and Ser Cauthrien watched as the signal fire blazed to life, just as planned. The rain soaked them to the bone and thunder clapped ominously above. She supposed that meant that this was their cue. The brown-haired woman readied herself to give the order to charge when her commander spoke.

"Sound the retreat," said he in a level, even voice. Ser Cauthrien was stunned. Wasn't the plan to charge when the signal fire was lit? Why retreat? And what about the king? They would be abandoning him to certain death, wouldn't they?

"But… what about the king?" Ser Cauthrien protested in shock. "Should we not – " Her lord grabbed her roughly by the wrist and looked her in the eye.

"Do as I command," he growled. The woman could have sworn that there was something… mad in his eyes but she ignored it.

Because Teyrn Loghain knew what he was doing. Right?

Ser Cauthrien yanked her arm from his hand and his glaring eyes pierced into her very soul. She nodded tightly and her lord turned away.

He trusted her to fulfill his commands and that she would do. No matter what her reservations.

She marched purposefully over to the fresh, unused army and gave them the order to retreat.

Because Ser Cauthrien would always obey her lord.

"Pull out!" she ordered, her voice clear and commanding even through the wind and rain. "All of you! Let's move!" She used her arm to gesture away from the battle. The men hesitated. They were likely having the same reservations as she did. But they obeyed her just as she obeyed Teyrn Loghain. Ser Cauthrien rejoined the Teyrn who gave her a satisfied nod. Her lord gave the Tower of Ishal one last glance before he joined his men with Ser Cauthrien following.

"My Lord, may I speak freely?" Ser Cauthrien asked as they began their long trek back to Denerim.

"You may."

"I thought the plan was to charge once the signal fire was lit. What changed your mind?" she asked hesitantly. The Teyrn was silent for so long that Ser Cauthrien feared that she overstepped her bounds.

"Because Cailan was a boy playing dress-up," he began. "He would have gotten us all killed and then handed Ferelden to Orlais. Everything Maric worked for…"

Ser Cauthrien frowned. She wasn't entirely sure that Orlais was the most pressing issue but what did she know? She did not fight against the Orlesians – Loghain MacTir had. He knew what he was talking about.

"How are we going to fight the darkspawn with the army gone?"

"I'll get the local banns to lend me their armies and I will lead them to victory. And I will do it without foreign "aid"," her lord spat bitterly. Ser Cauthrien was quiet for several moments. She trusted that the Teyrn could and would lead them to victory against the Blight but what about after? They would need a king to rebuild.

"Will you take over as king once the darkspawn are defeated, my lord?" she asked him. Teyrn Loghain stopped and gave her a deadpan look.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ser Cauthrien," he responded coolly. "My Anora is perfectly capable of ruling Ferelden on her own. Besides, she likes politics far more than I." Ser Cauthrien nodded. That made sense. Her lord was a brilliant man but he was also too bluntly honest to do well in politics. From what she could tell, even when King Maric was alive, Teyrn Loghain hated the political aspect of being a Teyrn and preferred being a mere soldier. And Queen Anora, Maker bless her soul, did all the real work of ruling the nation during King Cailan's very short reign.

Speaking of which…

"What are we going to tell the Queen once we return to Denerim?" she asked curiously. What were they going to tell his daughter?

"The truth," he replied vaguely. "Her husband was a glory-hungry fool who got himself and everyone else killed."

Ser Cauthrien nodded. It wasn't news that she was looking forward to giving, that was for sure. But she would obey.

Ser Cauthrien turned her head and gave Ostagar one last look as guilt twisted up her insides. Everyone thought that help was coming in the form of a fresh army that would change the tides. But it would never come. She tried not to think about everyone they were abandoning to the darkspawn. She trusted that her lord knew what he was doing. There had to be a reason why Teyrn Loghain had pulled them out of the battle. Maybe they were about to walk into a slaughter and the Teyrn had saved them.

Yes! That must be it! Teyrn Loghain must have foreseen that this was a battle that could not be won and he had saved them all from needless slaughter!

The woman ignored the little voice at the back of her mind that told her that what they had done was wrong. She ignored the madness that she thought she saw in his eyes.

Ser Cauthrien turned away from the ruins and focused on the road ahead. She would trust her lord and forget about that little voice in the back of her mind.

Because Ser Cauthrien would always obey.

* * *

**Author's Note: I just wanted to thank you guys so much for reading this story and giving me such a positive response. So, thank you and have a merry Christmas everyone!🎅 **

**~ Darth Synkka**


	14. Chapter 10: Witch of the Wilds

**Author's Note: So, uhh, this chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I thought. Well, I hope you guys like it anyway**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

* * *

Adrian's sleep was anything but restful. He'd been plagued with nightmares, mainly old memories replaying over and over again in his unconscious mind. The good, the bad and the ugly.

_ He thought he remembered his parents. His father holding him in his arms; his hair curly like his own and black, his skin olive and eyes a soulful brown like Solona's. His mother with impossibly long red hair and blue eyes chasing after him as the templars are taking him away to the Circle, begging them not to take him away. His three-year-old self turned back and his last sight of his mother would always be of her crying in the street as he's being taken away, never to see her again. _

_ He remembered the Circle in Kirkwall. He'd been treated like the highest security criminal and was locked in a tiny cell. He'd cried for his mother and father to save him a lot at first. But his memories of them had gotten fuzzier and fuzzier until he barely knew them at all._

_ He remembered meeting his sister for the first time and being so happy to have a family again. Solona had been such sweet kid and Adrian had adored her immediately. _

_ Adrian remembered walking into the Circle tower in Ferelden for the first time, holding Solona's hand protectively in his own, and he was astounded. It was so beautiful, and well lit! Actual windows and people freely moving about in the tower. This was nothing like Kirkwall. He'd made a friend here whose name was Jowan. He might like it here, he remembered thinking. _

_ At the age of nine, he realized that he was totally, and completely wrong. A templar whose name he did not know but whose face he would always remember had approached him one day. It hadn't ended well for the young mage. _

_ He remembered performing real magic for the first time. That templar had approached him again and he'd panicked. He'd cast magic that sent the man flying across the room. He'd remembered having a sword to his neck and Enchanter Neria breaking things up. She'd seen everything and he remembered crying in her arms. His punishment had been rather lenient considering what he had done. A week in solitary confinement. Probably because the templar wasn't seriously hurt. A part of him wished he had been. _

_ He'd remembered his friendship with Anders. The guy had been a radical and maybe a bit insane but he'd been good to him. He and Anders had caused all kinds of minor trouble. Dragged Jowan along. He remembered Anders constantly pushing his luck and attempting to escape. It was a bit of a game he played with the templars. He remembered feeling an odd sense of dark satisfaction as Anders messed with them. Until Karl Thekla came along and calmed him down. _

_ He remembered finding out about Solona's relationship with Cullen and how she was sneaking around at night to see him. Adrian had felt quite betrayed until his sister had pestered him into giving Cullen a chance, and they had slowly become friends. _

_ He remembered his Harrowing and how utterly violated he felt. He also remembered how proud everyone had been of him when he passed. Especially First Enchanter Irving and Enchanter Neria. _

_ He remembered helping Jowan destroy his phylactery and how his best friend had lied to him. _

_ He remembered Duncan's interference and leaving the tower to become a Grey Warden._

_ He remembered going into the Korcari Wilds and meeting Morrigan and her mother. _

_ He remembered the Joining and the horrible deaths of Daveth and Jory. _

_ He remembered the Battle of Ostagar and how Teyrn Loghain had betrayed them all. _

When Adrian opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was. He was lying on a bed, he knew that much. The covers were made of fur and his wounds had been dressed. He wore only his pants and his torso was wrapped in bandages. The thought of having been stripped without his knowledge had made him very uncomfortable but after what happened at Ostagar, he supposed he should count himself lucky to be alive. Wait, how _was_ he alive? What happened? Was Alistair all right?

He sat up quicker than he probably should have and his ribs twinged a little, but there was no sharp pain. He'd been nursed back to health and he had no idea by whom. The rest of his wounds had faded to little more than scars.

He looked around the room to figure out where he was and spotted someone very familiar. It was a woman with dark hair in a messy bun, primitive clothes that left little to the imagination and curves in all the right places. The girl from the Korcari Wilds. His brain was slow to recall her name but he did remember it after a few moments.

Morrigan…

She was doing something with the books on the shelves when she turned and saw that the man was awake.

"Ah, your eyes finally open," she said matter-of-factly. "Mother shall be pleased." Adrian rubbed the back of his head. How long had he been out? The stiffness of his muscles told him that it was probably a while.

"I remember you," he murmured. "From the Wilds." Did that mean he was still in the Korcari Wilds? What was he doing here? Morrigan nodded.

"I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten." _How could I forget… _"And we are in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds," the wild woman explained. Adrian blinked several times before he realized that he hadn't even asked those questions aloud and Morrigan had already answered them without a moment's hesitation. "You are welcome, by the way." Adrian flushed a little.

"Uh, right, thanks," he stammered awkwardly. Thankfully, Morrigan let it slide. "How does your memory fare?" she asked him, not unkindly. "Do you remember Mother's rescue?" Rescue? What rescue? He remembered nothing after having a sword stabbed through his middle.

"Rescue?" he asked aloud. "As in… from the tower?" Geez, his brain was rather slow today and it was making him sound incredibly stupid. He just wanted to smack himself. Morrigan nodded affirmatively.

"Yes. Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you both live. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle." Wait, how did she know that? He knew because he had been there when the plan was being discussed. He knew because he saw Loghain's army march away from the battlefield with his own eyes. But how did _she_? Oh geez, had she been spying on them in animal form without them knowing? He was a little afraid to ask. "Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he is not taking it well." Wait, friend? As in… Alistair? Well, shit, of course it was Alistair! Who else could it be?

If everyone had been massacred, then, did that mean Duncan was…

What about the king?

And Elissa and Fergus?

What about Wynne, Uldred, and that priestess who said a prayer for Daveth and Jory?

Were they all dead? Adrian paled at the thought. So many questions swirled around in his mind, and it wouldn't be fair to bombard Morrigan with all of them. So, he stuck with one.

"Duncan… the king… are they all…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He knew, deep in his heart, that it was true, but he asked anyway.

"Dead?" Morrigan finished for him. "Yes. Your friend had veered between denial and grief since Mother told him." Adrian's face fell even further, if that was even possible. He felt bad for Alistair. He knew Duncan, King Cailan and the others far better than he. His mind drifted to the Tower of Ishal where Alistair had attempted to protect him from the rampaging darkspawn even though he only had one working arm. "He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke." He raised a questioning eyebrow at Morrigan.

"Why?" he asked puzzled. Why did she care to talk to him? Heck, why did she bother to save him at all? He was just a nobody from the Circle of Magi. And Alistair was just a templar, right? Neither of them were people of any consequence. So why? Why did Morrigan's mother bother rescuing them?

"I do not know," said Morrigan a little too straight-faced for his liking. "She rarely tells me her plans." Adrian gave her skeptical look. He had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't telling him everything. Well, whatever. Let her have her secrets. It was her business, not his. He was just glad to be alive, whatever the reason.

"How did she even get to us? We were pretty high up." Morrigan get him a sly smile, the kind that said that she knew something he didn't.

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked you from atop the tower – one in each talon," she explained with a shrewd smirk. Adrian raised a skeptical eyebrow. A giant bird? Really? So these women were shapeshifters, after all.

"So, how long was I out anyway?" he asked. How long had it been since Ostagar? Morrigan hummed thoughtfully.

"About a fortnight," she replied casually. Adrian's jaw dropped to the floor. He'd been unconscious for two whole weeks?! Was she for real?

"Wait, what?! Are you serious?!" he asked her incredulously. "Were my injuries _that _severe?"

"Well, yes, they were. However, the darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal. She has access to magic that your Circle has long forgotten." Huh. He supposed that that explained why his body was so stiff. But didn't unused muscles atrophy after a while? Perhaps that was also the doing of Morrigan's mother?

Adrian stood from the bed and tested his legs (and their ability to hold his weight). Everything seemed fine to him. Even his ribs stopped hurting. There was the occasional twinge when he turned the wrong way, but that was nothing to worry about.

"Well, I feel fine now," he said as he looked around for his stuff. "Where is my stuff, if you don't mind me asking?"

Morrigan pointed at a chest at the end of the bed. Oh, she must have stored his things in there until he woke up. His pack was still there, cleaned of all the blood and grime, and his armour was there too. There were a couple of rips and the hole from when he was run through had been sewn up (he suspected that the scar was still there too). He pulled the studded leather on over his pants, because there was no way he was stripping in front of a girl. He'd been forced to get used to changing in front of other guys (even if it still made him uncomfortable) but he wouldn't do that in front of a strange woman he didn't know.

"Thanks, Morrigan," he said as he searched his pack to make sure everything was still there. Who knew if the darkspawn might have touched some of his stuff? Everything looked all right and even the Joining pendant was still there. He had no chain for it at the moment so he kept it in a side-pocket of his pack.

Morrigan almost seemed to flush pink. Almost. Maybe it was just his imagination.

"I… you are welcome," she said somewhat awkwardly. It took her only a moment to regain her composure. The man slipped on his boots. "though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer." Adrian chuckled as he tied the laces on his boots.

"Neither am I," he said. He put on his gloves, pulled the small pack on his back and was ready to go.

"Well, I ought to see what your mum wants." Morrigan nodded in approval.

"I will stay here and make something to eat." Adrian blinked.

She cooks too? Damn.

Adrian opened the door and spotted Alistair, whose arm had healed by now, staring at the swampy waters, the cattails swaying in the light wind. It was an odd sight. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was almost as if the forest didn't realize that the darkspawn had overrun it. Almost. There was not an animal to be seen or heard. No squirrels in the trees or birds in the air. The forest seemed completely empty.

Adrian didn't even notice that Morrigan's mother, in all her inhuman glory, was there until she spoke.

"See?" she said in a chastising voice. "Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man." Alistair turned and his face brightened when he saw that his fellow Grey Warden was up and kicking. At the attention, Adrian lifted his hand and waved at them.

"Hi," he said.

"You… you're alive!" Alistair murmured astonished. He supposed that a fortnight was a long time to be comatose. The blond chuckled mirthlessly. "I thought you were dead for sure." Adrian rubbed the back of neck awkwardly.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to worry you with Duncan…" Adrian couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence as Alistair's face fell. The poor bastard just plain looked exhausted. His dark golden hair a mess and deep shadows under his eyes.

"It just doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower," he said despondently.

Just like Duncan and the others…

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," the old woman scolded. Alistair turned to her, surprised. Almost as if he had forgotten that she was even there.

"I didn't mean… but what do we call you? You never told us your name," the blond sputtered in embarrassment.

"Names are pretty but useless," said the old woman casually. Adrian frowned. He would have to strongly disagree. Names were identity. They reflected family lineage and the norms of the country one was born to.

Your name is part of who you are.

"The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do." Alistair and Adrian's jaws both dropped in perfect sync. Flemeth? As in… _the_ Flemeth? From the stories?

Okay, Morrigan's mother looked old, but there was no possible way she was actually _that_ old. Right? But the legends did say something about Flemeth meeting a demon, becoming possessed and becoming an abomination. Was it really possible for her to have been alive all this time?

"_The_ Flemeth from the legends?" Alistair breathed. "Daveth was right – you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

"And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?" The old woman – Flemeth – retorted. Well, that wasn't a "no".

"Uh, Flemeth, just out of curiosity, why _did_ you save us?" Adrian asked. Flemeth must have found his question amusing because she laughed heartily.

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we?" she told him with a strange twinkle in her golden eye. "Someone has to deal with these darkspawn." So, she decided to save the two newbies? That didn't make sense. Wouldn't it make more sense to save more experienced Grey Wardens (like Duncan)? He wasn't complaining about being alive, but he didn't believe Flemeth's reasons for saving the two of them specifically. Not even for a second. "It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change while I wasn't looking?"

"Of course not!"

"But we _were_ fighting the darkspawn!" Alistair retorted. "The king had nearly defeated them! Why would he do this?" Adrian was wondering the same thing. He crossed his arms quietly as his mind wandered back to that night. Soaked to the bone and thunder clapping overhead. The feeling of despair as Loghain's men abandoned the battlefield, and the utter helplessness he felt when the darkspawn swept upon them like a tidal-wave.

Adrian frowned. He would never forget. Nor would he forgive.

Who knows… maybe that battle was never winnable to begin with. Fergus Cousland did mention that they were vastly outnumbered.

But why? The plan was to charge from cover once the signal fire was lit. So why pick _that moment_ to back out of his own plan and leave? If Loghain didn't think that the battle could be won, why didn't he say so? He didn't he suggest a retreat? Sure, he mentioned that the king shouldn't be on the frontlines, but that wasn't the same thing as "this isn't a fight that we can win, pull out".

Maybe… maybe this was his plan all along. To use the beacon as a signal to retreat. The plan he gave at the war-meeting must have been a decoy. A trick.

And they had all fallen for it.

"Now _that_ is a good question," said Flemeth, not unkindly. Her voice snapped Adrian from his thoughts. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat." Alistair and Adrian paled.

"The archdemon…" whispered Alistair.

Everyone knew the stories. That over a thousand years ago, at the height of the Tevinter Imperium's power, they used to worship great dragons as gods. The Maker, in his wrath, had locked the dragon gods away in deep underground prisons. But the people of Tevinter still worshiped them. It is said that it was from them that the magister lords learned to use blood magic.

Then, in the name of the old gods, the magister lords ripped open the Veil that separated the physical world from the Fade and broke into the Golden City. Their sin had turned the city black and the Maker had cast them out, turning them into the first of the darkspawn. To this very day, the darkspawn still search for the old dragon gods, and if they find one, they corrupt it and turn it into an archdemon. This was the beginning of every Blight.

Four archdemons rose. Potentially a fifth now. There were supposedly seven in all.

Maker's balls.

"The archdemon," Adrian began quietly. "Is it really a god?"

"Perhaps it is," Flemeth replied cryptically. "Or perhaps it isn't. Either way, history says it's a fearsome and immortal thing. And only fools ignore history."

Not to mention powerful. Entire nations had fallen to it.

But Grey Wardens defeated these archdemons and ended the Blights. Every single time. There was only two of them but they _had_ to believe that they could do this. Because who else would if they didn't?

"Then we need to fight and kill this archdemon," said Adrian filled with determination. He would not let this archdemon hurt anyone that he cared about. Solona and Enchanter Neria may not know that he was alive and well, but he would do anything to protect them.

"By ourselves?!" protested Alistair incredulously. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back." Adrian's face fell. And the entire army was killed at Ostagar. No. That couldn't be the end of it. There had to be _someone_ they could call upon for aid. Maybe the First Enchanter? They may not have parted on the best of terms but he would understand that this was a Blight, surely.

Wait a minute. The treaties! Duncan gave them to Alistair to hold on to before the battle! He really hoped that the treaties were still there in Alistair's pack.

"Not to mention, I don't know how," continued Alistair, interrupting his thoughts.

"How to kill the archdemon," said Flemeth. "Or how to raise an army?" Both, Adrian reckoned. "It seems to me, that those are two different questions, hmm? Do the Grey Wardens have no allies these days?" The Witch of the Wilds gave Adrian a long, knowing look. Almost as if she knew what he was thinking about.

"We do," the mage chimed in. "Alistair, you still have those treaties Duncan gave you?" He asked him. Alistair's lips formed an "o" shape as the light of understanding sparked in his eyes.

"I do! I kept them in my pack! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places. They are obligated to help us during a Blight!" Alistair seemed excited now.

"There must be other people we can go to," said Adrian. Alistair hummed thoughtfully.

"Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called," he began. "But who knows when they'll get here, if ever. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely." Arl Eamon? Of Redcliffe? He had no idea why Alistair thought Arl Eamon would help them.

"You mean the arl of Redcliffe? You really think he would help us?" The mage questioned. Alistair frowned thoughtfully.

"I suppose… Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him; he raised me, for Maker's sake! He's also a good man, respected in the Landsmeet." Alistair gasped in realization. "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Loghain was also an honourable man, Adrian remembered. Not just an honourable man but a respected hero. Why would anyone take _their_ word over _his_? He decided not say any of this aloud. He didn't want to dash Alistair's hopes.

"I may be old," Flemeth cut in before Alistair could respond. "But dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… this sounds like an army to me." Hmm… she did have a point. They may even gather an army big enough to replace the one lost at Ostagar.

It was a fool's hope, but they had to try. This was what Grey Wardens did, right?

Alistair looked to him, a new light of determination in his eyes. "So can we do this?" he asked hesitantly. "Go to Redcliffe and these other places and… build an army?" A part of Adrian was wondering why Alistair was even asking him. Was he not the senior Warden here? Adrian shrugged nonchalantly.

"Sure. That's what Grey Wardens do, isn't it?"

"So you are set then?" Flemeth chimed in. "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

Adrian and Alistair both gave her a tight nod. There wasn't really any choice. They were all that was left now. Maybe the Orlesian Wardens would eventually figure that something was wrong and send someone, but Maker only knew how long that would take. No, they were on their own.

Flemeth nodded in what might have been approval.

"Now… before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you," she said cryptically. Adrian raised a questioning red eyebrow at the old witch.

Suddenly, Morrigan walked out of the hut, asking if they would have two guests for tonight or not.

Oh boy. He had a feeling that he knew what Flemeth was talking about. Not that he was complaining about having a pretty girl with them but he wouldn't want Morrigan complaining the whole time if Flemeth forced her to go.

"The Grey Wardens will be leaving shortly, girl," Flemeth told her. "And you will be joining them." Morrigan looked almost relieved at the idea that their guests were weren't stay.

"Such a shame –" her voice trailed off as she realized what else her mother had said. "What?!" she demanded incredulously. Adrian gave her an apologetic shrug.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" Flemeth cackled heartily at the forlorn expression on her daughter's face.

"Uh…"

"Have I no say in this?" asked Morrigan exasperated. Flemeth crossed her arms.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance." Flemeth then turned to the two Grey Wardens. "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

"Fine," said Adrian. Morrigan didn't look at all enthusiastic either but it seemed none of them had a choice in all of this.

"Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate," Alistair warned. Adrian hummed, his arms crossed with a slight nod. He hadn't even thought of that. As a Grey Warden, he no longer had to answer to Chantry law. But Morrigan… she was the very definition of an apostate. For all they knew, she would be immediately labelled a maleficar and killed on sight.

"True," murmured Adrian.

"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man," said Flemeth coldly. "perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken," Alistair replied, shifting his weight in discomfort.

"Mother…" Morrigan began. "this isn't how I wanted this. I am not even ready –"

"You must be ready," Flemeth said, cutting her off. "Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

Well, shit. So Ferelden's last hope lied with him and Alistair alone? No pressure or anything.

Morrigan looked down and seemed to ponder her mother's words. As begrudgingly as she may have done it, she agreed. Flemeth gave her an approving nod and turned to the two men.

"And you, Wardens? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed." Adrian gulped nervously but he nodded. No pressure what-so-ever. But he would agree. There was only two of them and any help was good help.

Right?

Adrian only nodded in response. He didn't know what else to say.

"Allow me to get my things, if you please," said Morrigan, rather annoyed.

"Uh, right. Of course. Take your time." Without a word, Morrigan went to the door and disappeared inside the hut, leaving a rather awkward silence behind her.

Neither of the two Grey Wardens were feeling particularly good about any of this. How could two guys be expected to unite the entire country? Adrian knew he _might_ be able to convince the Circle but after the incident with Jowan, he had no idea if first enchanter Irving would even speak to him.

The elves… that probably meant the dalish elves. There were many, many different tribes and there was no way in the void that any of them would ever give their warriors to a couple of humans. He supposed that that was what the treaties were for. To force them to do it whether they liked it or not.

Hmm… the dwarves were in a constant war with the darkspawn to take back their old kingdoms. Their numbers dwindled with each passing year and who knew if they'd be willing to give up their warriors, the most experienced at fighting darkspawn, to fight a Blight. For all they knew, the dwarves might consider a Blight to be a welcome reprieve from the darkspawn in the Deep Roads.

Maker's balls. Adrian really wished that Duncan was here. _He'd_ know what to do.

What would Duncan do?

… Duncan would do whatever was necessary to put down the Blight. Duncan wouldn't be afraid of being told to stick it where the sun don't shine, because he'd demand a "yes" from all of these groups.

He would admit it, he was scared to return to the Circle, to face what he had done. But he wouldn't stop himself. He was a Grey Warden now – one of the last – and he needed to behave like one. After all, he would not be returning as a mage. Not anymore.

And then there was Alistair's contact in Redcliffe. Arl Eamon. Hmm… it might be smart to go there first, before Loghain got to him. Maker only knew what the Teyrn would tell him and he already got a fortnight's head start.

"I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens," said a slightly annoyed female voice that snapped Adrian from his thoughts. Morrigan stood there with a small bag at her side. He supposed all of her supplies were in there. "I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far, and you will find much you need there."

Adrian fingered his chin as he mulled over Morrigan's suggestion. They would need to resupply and maybe getting some news wouldn't hurt either.

"Or, if you would prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide," Morrigan added. "The choice is yours."

"Oh! No, no!" Adrian said, waved his hands in front of him. "That's an excellent idea. We could pick up supplies and news at this place. Right, Alistair?" The ex-templar grimaced and Adrian looked down embarrassed.

"Or… not," he said dully.

"I just… do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?" That… did sound rather silly when Alistair put it that way.

"Well, no, but there's only two of us. We could use all the help we can get," Adrian told him. Alistair didn't look too happy as he thought over what his one and only comrade said.

"You're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them," he said begrudgingly. Morrigan's lips tilted up into a mocking smirk.

"I am so pleased to have your approval," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. Alistair glared shamelessly at Morrigan.

Adrian sighed. Oh boy.

"Okay!" He cut in before a fight could start. "So, is there any chance we'll get to this village before nightfall?" Morrigan nodded.

"If we leave now, we shall be there by sunset."

"We should get going then." Morrigan nodded and turned to Flemeth.

"Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut," she said wearily. Flemeth snorted derisively in response.

"Bah. 'Tis far more likely that you will find this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight." Morrigan bit her lip and looked rather guilty.

"I… all I meant was…"

"Yes, I know," she replied, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. The old lady ended up ruining the moment with a surprisingly casual "Do try to have fun, dear."

Uhh… fun? Was she serious?

With one final check of their inventory, the witch and the Wardens left the relative safety of Flemeth's hut and began their trek to the village up north, which Morrigan told them was called Lothering.

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** Author's Note: Welp, I hope you guys had a good holiday (whatever you guys happen to celebrate) and I wish you a happy new year. Cheers! **


	15. Interlude 4: Bann Teagan

**Author's Note: this chapter also turned out longer than I thought. Oh well. I hope you guys like it. This chapter was difficult to write it was kind of hard for me to get into Bann Teagan's head. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age**

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_Meanwhile in Denerim…_

Bann Teagan Guerrin was not happy. The last couple of weeks had been… eventful, to say the least. First, he received word of the epic failure at Ostagar and then his brother Eamon had fallen ill, and now every bann in Ferelden had been called to Denerim by Teyrn Loghain himself.

None of this bode well in Bann Teagan's opinion.

"… and I expect each of you to supply these men," thundered the Teyrn from the balcony as blunt as could be. "We must rebuilt what was lost at Ostagar, and quickly." There was a pause. At the Teyrn's side, stood the now-widowed Queen Anora, Loghain's daughter. She stood regal and tall, Bann Teagan looked around at his fellow banns, all of which shifted in discomfort, their hearts disquiet. He didn't blame them.

"There are those who would take advantage of our weakened state if we let them. We must defeat this darkspawn incursion, but we must do so sensibly and without hesitation," Teyrn Loghain continued, obviously alluding to Orlais.

Bann Teagan frowned. Something about all of this did not sit right with him. The Teyrn's words made sense but his actions were rather suspicious, in his opinion. Loghain's story was that the Grey Wardens had sweet-talked King Cailan into a battle that he could not win and got him and everyone else killed. But that didn't seem right to the red-haired man. The Grey Wardens had always saved them from the darkspawn. Why fail now? And as for the king… the good Teyrn would tell them that he had no choice but to pull out his men, but the army had been utterly massacred with only a small handful of survivors, while the Teyrn hadn't lost a single man.

Bann Teagan smelled a rat.

He stepped forward.

"Your lordship," he began respectfully. "if I may speak?" The Teyrn gave him the go-ahead.

He gulped nervously but spoke loud and clear. "You have declared yourself Queen Anora's regent, and claim that we must unite under your banner for our own good," he began. The other banns around him all nodded or gave him strange looks as if to ask, "where are you going with this?" Even the Teyrn himself gave him such a look. "But what of the army lost at Ostagar? Your withdrawal was most… fortuitous." Bann Teagan cringed internally at the heavy accusation he was throwing the hero of River Dane. But that was the feeling he got. He wasn't sure he entirely believed Teyrn Loghain's story. What if he did just straight up abandon the king? If he did, then Teyrn Loghain was not a man he wanted to follow any longer.

He got a mixed reception from the other banns. Some gasped in horror, some hissed at him while others nodded in agreement.

The Teyrn paused for several long moments, his face unreadable. "Everything I have done," said Loghain rather calmly. "has been to secure Ferelden's independence. I have not shirked my duty to the throne, and neither will any of you!" Then where was the king? Almost everyone at Ostagar was dead and yet the Teyrn returns with a fresh army and dares to demand that they bow to him?! He did even bother to try to help?

No, Bann Teagan would not have it.

"The Bannorn will not bow to you simply because you demand it!" said the Bann with fire on his tongue, feeling much more confident. Oh, he had done it now. The Teyrn was angry with him now.

"Understand this: I will brook no threat to this nation... from you or anyone!" He roared as he stormed off, leaving the queen to calm everyone down. So that was the end of that.

He walked away from the whispery hubbub of nervous nobles.

"Bann Teagan, please!" called out Queen Anora from the balcony. The bann stopped and gave her his attention. He knew that she wanted him to give the Teyrn a chance. But he wouldn't. He saw how the bannorn had already started fighting amongst themselves over what happened at Ostagar.

Some agreed with Bann Teagan, while others thought that Teyrn Loghain was a good man, not prone to power-hungry stunts. Why would he lie about something like this?

Bann Teagan sympathized with them.

"Your Majesty. Your father risks a civil war. If Eamon were here…" If his brother were here, he'd sort this out. Eamon was a very popular man. People would rally behind him just as easily as they would the Teyrn.

"Bann Teagan, my father is doing what is best," the queen defended with a light shake of her head. The bann gave her a deadpan look.

"Did he also do what was best for your husband, your Majesty?" he asked her calmly. He didn't want to take out his anger on her. None of this was _her_ fault, after all. Queen Anora looked away, guilt in her blue eyes.

Bann Teagan walked away without another word. Isolde had sent him word from the castle, and begged him to come to Redcliffe. Eamon was ill and in a coma.

The Teyrn would not get any access to the bann's men and he would make sure that he wouldn't see any of Eamon's either. If asked, he would simply say that they were not his men to give.

Bann Teagan left the castle and began the two to three day long trek to Redcliffe.

If only he knew what he would find there.

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**Author's Note: I'll be honest, the way I feel about Queen Anora is a bit of a mixed bag. On one hand, I think Anora's a bit of a snake, but on the other hand, I feel a bit bad for her. Oh boy, the landsmeet is going to be _loads_ of fun to deal with... 😒**

**Well, I'll cross that bridge when I get there. Until next time everyone and happy new year **

**~ Darth Synkka**


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